By Emily DuBois Fields of gold only I remember
Scandinavian seas that I danced in Pink satin roses that I brushed My fingers against each day, never Heeding the danger, until I felt the prick Which turned into a stab And I didn’t acknowledge it Until I saw the red That grew from my finger Like a cherry. And suddenly, The fields have withered, The sea has dried up And the roses have been whisked away On a vagabond wind, returning to her home. Leaving naught but The memories of dances danced And kisses kissed. She’s gone, leaving me with An aggrandized memory of Love Without a happy ending. Comments are closed.
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2017-2018
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