Strange Pictures


Don't read;
feel the words. They weep
in full moon.

The hills were
moving. Trees wouldn't
wear the dresses.

I was not ready
for autumn. Can you come
back after the death
of hope?

The stalkers
stand in queue
to harness the dark energy.

The frills were
beautiful. Face was missing.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

Strange Pictures