Spirits of carved wings
and ungodly hours often tread
forsaken sands of time,
leaving mysterious footprints.
She smiles, as she rests tonight
upon those very sands,
beckoning seraphs to blossom
wings, from mildewed existence.
Unsinged, by fear's phantom traps,
she craves liberty's wanton reins.
She leaves; a lifetime's passion
burning, in butterfly wings.
Author notes
Option 1: Background picture #1
A contest entry
- one a day contest by creationsfromheart.
550 points, ended February 23, 2008, 9 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - #51 Turning green to gold by daviscth.
300 points, ended March 5, 2008, 52 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is my third reading and I like it more each time.
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thank you for such a wonderful entry to start this contest this is really quit beautiful and well written, Good luck in the contest
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