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Winter Lily
May 25, 2014
Feeling free on a whispering tune
Someone stops by in the air,
Rising.
A feeling of crimson fair;
It rushes into my small room
Alive and listening
to the warm words of summer,
deadly melodies grab through my brambles.
They cloak the sky blue;
Unleashing new diamonds,
Alive and glistening
Aftershock of a flowering bud,
blooms on a whim
and thinks nothing of
my dying winter petal
that runs away from
an April/May storm.
They sheet over my cruel metal,
and always will come.
© Anonymous
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