The binding black tarmac swallows the attune grey silhouette,
Where only the lines shine on the drops of scarlet petals.
A symphony, of bewitchment.
Green vine caress delicate strings,
music to which only our hearts can dance.
Author notes
A contest entry
- my first quickie by writebrain.
400 points, ended March 5, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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very interesting....
thanks for your entry!

