The Rain of Love

Her church is broken
Her church of arching pillars
Ivory arching pillars en-caging that fiery moth
That crimson moth with perfect patterned wing-beats
One two, beat beat, a timeless rhythm
An endless song, now faltering
Her cathedrals velvet gilded roof is torn asunder
And like the dawns light streaming forth, a river pours
It pours, a memory of the flame that once burned strong

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem