B
I needed warmth,
so I burnt the words
that you wrote for me.
Upon a fire,
a funeral Pyre,
your memory.
A waft of smoke
that joined the sky
of echoes
slowing passing by.
By the Book (sic)
Bardly Writ
Recent Comments
Lokesh Umak on We counted them out Lokesh Umak on We counted them out Words from a Lentil… on We counted them out Lokesh Umak on We counted them out Words from a Lentil… on Down the Looe!
Love this one, the opening lines are killers!
Thank you, Angela, dog-walking in the Cornish lanes is very helpful to the little Grae cells. G:)
Walking… I can only dream of it at the moment! Please enjoy it in my name as well 🙂
Are you off your feet? Does your metre need a lift? Have your syllables deserted you? Try Poet’s Anonymous. ‘Helpful advice for all your poetrical needs.’ G:)