Lovett4166

A Cemetery Playground

Woman; pale skin kissed with moonlight
Orphan children gallivant, headstone hopscotch
serenade the resting with Victorian rhyme.
Illuminate their playground
moon shine bright crack silver clouds

It's here she sits,
perched upon a concrete crucifix;
she plucks rose pedals.
pleasant pain is the thorny stab

Torches enlighten faded horizon
blooming daughter's frolic beneath the Oak's
crying crows in the witching hour

 

Comments1

  • lovedud

    Love the mood you created, a short, sweet, dreamy and gloomy poem. Beautiful.



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