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december eighth
by Ava Blu
she eats the roses
atop Marys grave
the petals catch in her hair
she falls,
spilling them onto the gravel
she is on her knees
digging for more to taste
but her soul will assume this is waste
and never feel full.
12/08/2008 Author's Note:
to remember, she must eat the things
someone else loved.
Posted on 12/08/2008
Copyright © 2024 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/08/08 at 08:43 PM Really nice Jeanna. I love the turn around of perception. We really do understand so little about how it bridges the gap from outside to inside. Well done m'lady. |
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