Autumns Grace
Roses under my bruised feet,
Led a trail to your defeat
With a circle traced around your eyes
We continue to frown upon each others lies
Cringing beneath the burnt leaves
Orange and crusted gold lines
We stand among the people
Who have felt this cold air before?
Do not question the earthly hallow
The grave my dear, you dug to shallow
For the rain it will gather upon thy crown
With the pink flesh and soon to be out of breath
I abide you ado
Farwell the gentleman of grace
And pondering hearts combined
We feed the crops that are parched
You quiver in the wind
With that you take me home
And wear your child’s grin
A smell of wonderful ambers burning
The night sky becomes dimmer
As the flames die down
Our breath becomes thinner
As you reach for the cracks in the ground
|