Saturday, January 21, 2017

Grieving Poet

Under a veil of gossamer,
Hid the jade of wondrous eyes.
Skin pale of porcelain
And mouth red like molten rubies.

She was the prettiest girl
I’ve met.
She was the woman
Of my dreams.

But Death was jealous
And stole her.
And the pale skin turned paler.
The red lips turned deep purple.

She was a jewel.
She was too precious 
For this world.
China doll, golden fairy.

There’s no beauty left on earth.
All my eyes can see is misery.
With her all wonder died,
There’s nothing left to see.

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