Just dreaming of the reborn dead.
The girl slept soundly in her bed|
Just dreaming of the reborn dead
That came to tell her many times
Of thoughts that lived within her rhymes,
Reflected from forever’s face
A countenance wrapped up in lace
Who’s eyes were blue tinged butterflies
Who’s heart was like sweet soft goodbyes.
And in her room of whispered gold
Her poems would drop, and then unfold
Like gull wings beating on the air
Or children on the bottom stair,
Who saw gods light and heard his call
For they were not children after all
More angels bathing in her flame
A rose by any other name.
As silver shades of who knows where
Wrapped round her so that she could share
Sweet essences of everything
And listen to the church bells ring,
And in her bed she whisper stirred
Between her words of poetry
As the wings of her poetic bird
Spoke to her of how life used to be.
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