Dancing With Roses
Dancing with roses
In the garden of the dead
High above Atlantis
And below the heaven's
Is where they lay their heads
Their beds are made of grass
Growing up from the earth
The creatures in the garden
Have succumb to their own
Lusty thirst
But with all the rotten misfortune
That plagues their precise lives
There are still a few
That want to renew
The garden's
Way of life
R.K.H
Copyright © Roger Harp | Year Posted 2021
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