The Cenotaph to Poetry’s Memory
The Cenotaph to Poetry’s Memory:
I am bound to the tomb of my poems. The Kingdom of Love was just a souvenir song to drown out the cracking fire of my Winter blue eyes. I often wonder where the burning Chrysanthemums go to dream, or the starlings go to lunch, or how something splendid could willingly leave you ravaged in a grey dystopian dawn. So as I write another poem for the grave, I grow wilder than the villain monster star that dances with ease at the chance to love again. And I put my pen down.
©️Winter Dawn Burns
2 thoughts on "The Cenotaph to Poetry’s Memory"
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Goosebumps! at “I am bound to the tomb of my poems.”
Love these wonderings “wonder where the burning Chrysanthemums go to dream, or the starlings go to lunch,”
Winter Dawn will write again…