Tag: writing and photography

  • A poem: Wither

    I gather tokens of death
    in appearance fragile-
    with thorns hidden
    underneath.

    A hand reaches out…
    Blood lingers
    on thin skin.

    Petals burn,
    Smoke intoxicates:
    you breathe it in.

    Funeral words carved
    in marble skin-
    paralysed,
    you listen blindly
    as they inhale life.