The Fall
The Fall
Barren trees , left to rust
The wind blows
Here comes the dust
The wandering eye , knows
For crooked teeth and sharp tongues don’t mind their own
Bouquet dissolve and decay
Yet, the full moon sits , crowned on it’s thrown
For the night is plentiful
Despite dismay
Marckincia Jean
Rhyme
08/05/2024
Copyright © Marckincia Jean | Year Posted 2024
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