Saturday, September 7, 2013

09-06 Collateral Damage

The Queen of the North,
once, whispered to me scandalously,
of damages, warning me,
as she picked flecks of ice,
from her poised eyebrows,
a day would come...

Tim. A day will come.

smoldering, I licked,
my cauterized wounds,
flashing the pink underflap,
of my new wings,
still drying in the sun,
shrugging my shoulders.

Tim. A day will come.

in a bramble of roses,
the knight of the garden stops me,
while pruning the bushes for the fall,
petals rotting sticking to his wet, leather soaked sandals,
waving the freshly  sharpened shears at me,
he pauses,

Tim. A day will come.

the rose in my hand, blooms,
petals fall from my palms
butterflies in the garden,
close my eyes, fly,
I wish,
shrugging my shoulders,
in a garden of roses,
I wish,
knowing,

Tim. A day will come.



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