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The wolves howling at the height of his past life
As a strangled breath from the grave
The air feels heavy and smells rotten soil
He never forgot his great love
The woman who was his passion
Links and bells chime in the wind
The taste of vintage wine
His blood rushes through a gloriously red rose
The last restraint is gone
If death is a caress, what is life ?
His bride will be transported on a white horse
- 07.08.2016
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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Copyright © Anne-Lise Andresen | Year Posted 2016
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