A Dream
A rose hard as stone,
Weeps and wilts
like falling snow,
It tilts,
Facing a moonlit dawn,
As I lay in the ghostly place
waiting, for that nightly yawn
of that horrid face
I see only in my dreams,
Life becomes only, but a mere thought,
Savaging within the depths of the seas
awaiting, to be fought,
and brought back, to the beginning,
When all, but the heartless, began singing
Copyright © Angela Urffer | Year Posted 2010
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