Cream-colored, the sky sheds remnants of what the moon endured
let the clouds cry
their tears, a boon for the fiery ground belowβ€”
the breath of the green hills slowed one night
as trees with falling leaves escape from distaste,
what have they done to us?
It crushes into soft red lips, devouring what is left of piety
how we start is only part of what we eventually doβ€”
fragrant
the daffodils witness rhetorical lies.
I listen to whispers of coming decades,
watch as pollen drips into the abyss of death’s dark dreams;
what have they done to us?

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Fragrant, ground,
listen, cream, escape πŸ’

Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United