Our childish ghosts cling
to severed leaves that sway
and blow in the crush of coming death
Nightingales tell stories to shadows
that grip to our eyes,
and perceive the world of ravens
Death turns angels into crows.
A contest entry
- Take My Breath Away(Anything you Want) by fairytalelovestory.
675 points, ended October 19, 2008, 106 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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ty for entering good luck
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