Monday, March 17, 2008

Bracteal

My heavens grow grey above me
These hands bare no emerald fingers
My arms no longer bear fruitful labors of the past
This breath grows cool around me
Soon I will be naked for all to peer
To sleep I go for seasons to wait
Awaken in time by a warm morning’s glory
Alone and dying, suffocated by nature’s will
Wilted and broken, thirsting for life
Faded and crowded, lost in a blanket of identical faces
Disconnected and falling, caught in the cool winds of fate

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