A little sad night, going straight, no where,
the soul wandering lost in as a blurred fog,
walking in craziness to give me a wet horror.
Temple of time in whispers of one sigh
aqua punctilious, keeps deep eyes on it
filled with sleep under silent calm flames.
The scintillation serene sows on attitude
in changing illusions of a sovereign disdain
with flickering dreams of an abyss of sun sets
to ask an offering question of eternal peace.
Author notes
Prompt: 1 Picture
credit: http://www.michaelburg.com/Graveyard/thumbs/graveyard-4.jpg
A contest entry
- PIF Quickie! by LeilaJayne.
300 points, ended May 10, 2008, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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