I dream of Eglantine;
Of hushed sweet summer creeping into town
My room engulfed with luscious dewy fragrance of cowslips
Tiny wild amber spots promenade,
floating across the wave of my ceiling
painted turquoise
Crystal clear, glistening liquid
Blending an ethereal elixir in my tea
The moments I remember you,
those cinnamon sweet interludes
When touched by mellow lullabies,
collide and pour a nostalgic, deliquescent grief
Trickle down as cold tears
A pounding heart, beating rapid
in the skies cradling drenched cotton candy
In the eyes, irises iridescent with hues of blue
I dream of Eglantine;
I dream of you.
YOU ARE READING
Death By Muse
PoetryA collection of bizarre unspoken thoughts. "Verba volant, scripta manent." Spoken words fly away, written ones remain.
