eclipse Posted August 19, 2019 Share Posted August 19, 2019 Busking stars summon rose shaped winds in the dark, pages of history float on to thorns. Soil ready for birth-wind blows into flowers, town answers call ready to announce it's worth. The moon masquerades as a rose spraying the scent of Tyler over the earth-the moon's Queen. Dreaming thorns anticipate the night's scheming yawn, feathered darkness flutters away. Clouds above a festival are like coins falling in slow motion to the waters of a wishing well. Tourists surrender to the smell of festival flowers, ladies in costume gather in this carnival which is like a flower left on a river by a man to travel to his lover. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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