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What was not Ahead.


In a stilling moment beconing, 

Calling to the unsure kind

The music of the flora sing,

Comforting the unclear mind.

With many troubled causes,

Wished away for feathered fears 

The floral tune wrought losses,

Through malingering their cheer.

Awe was not not the answer

Bringing only dust,

Until it grew as cancer

Poisoning the must.

Decrepit as it were,

The people who were caught

 Had lived all too sure,

Without a single thought.

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Categories: ArtTags: , , , , , , ,

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