Poem -
Bluebells
Raven bird.
The bluebells shall never rise to touch, that morning mist,
nor harboured flame
Yet the beauty lies within the thought, that love once lost proclaimed
Surly that old wind blows and makes mischief with its uttered word
Such a sweet surrender calling
That black and raven bird.
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Comments
:) " OVER, the white cliffs of Dover ? " Like, falling off a preserpice, with only " bird droppings " for company. Not " The Abyss " !!! Think of what you see, to last, and enjoy it, while it does. You, will not go far wrong, then ?
LOVE THE SKIN, you are in. Desire better, to make more of yourself. Before, the end. Try to live on your own terms, to " gain from pain " but not encountering " Oblivion " and all that entails. Within " The Legend Of The Fall " !! :) :)
Take care.