The cold touch of The Serpent’s poison embrace me through the tender glass
I sip on his poison, It’s burning sting fills my soul
Ridding me of fatigue and worry
I cough making the witch chuckle
Her sweet voice echoed in my ear,
mingling with the sweet aftertaste
I give my thanks to the serpent and the witch
As my steps followed by a wooden whispers headed to the chilling rubble
The witch waved goodbye
while the serpent thanked me with his amber gaze
I step out and witness the end of the fall
I pass the drowned carnations before I pause
as a single carnation was able to survive
I continue to the lost typewriter
Rust covers it’s golden shine
I lift it and a letter reveals itself
I grab the letter in wax and continued to walk
The rubble now on my feet
I sit by the edge and stare at flower at the end
A flower that has yet to bloom yet I knew was beautiful
Then the fox sat beside me handing a pen and paper
Telling me to, “Write”
I looked through it’s mask and I could feel it’s love,
a single tear slides down my cheek,
I looked at the letter in wax for the last time before I threw it at the engulfing blue.
The Fox let’s out a laugh, making me follow suit
I accept it’s invitation, as the eternal morning calls for someone
while we write with a certain glint in our hands