🚀 go-pugleaf

Gilad Timmings wrote:

>
> Still As A Flower


> There was a rose in the gloom,
> passed the sheltering door,
> bereft of any knowledge to sooth.

> The earth lays pungent at my feet,
> the hours like tendrils pull
> faint hearts from our abode.

> Her throws were yet petals
> as scarlet as a dawn
> rising over the tide of her screams.

> A little brook to drink from,
> a bird along the edge of nectar
> the deft touch of a bill into the deep.

> Spontaneous as a sudden plume
> all urge to rescue gone, to settle
> the grip no more on bare metal.

> Ashes are layered as gifts at my feet,
> you are both below the drip of my tears,
> still as a flower and yet arise.

On second read, quite good....