Dormant as death Miss Pretty comes,
Her eyes are olives set in stone,
Hair waving and heart aflame,
Sits eastward to westward half in joy
Semi fulfilled and such as not,
Blowing kisses to an empty room,
Which, being burned in dust,
Fellow ghosts take oft as theirs,
And viewing neighbours death and dark
Closes her eyes and welcomes sleep.
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Books | Celebs | Entertainment | Family | Food | Health | Moms | Money | News | Politics | Spirituality | Sports | Travel | Writing
Books | Celebs | Entertainment | Family | Food | Health | Moms | Money | News | Politics | Spirituality | Sports | Travel | Writing
Version 16961, "Pacino"; Copyright © 2009 Gather Inc. All rights reserved.


Comments: 11
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
Very nicely done (those somber olive tones).
Another gem of yours. Thank you for posting this to Gather Writing Essentials, Monday, as it's great to see another of your works. I don't think I've ever read anything by you that I didn't come away with more than before I read it.
Marilyn - Monday Editor