For Joseph May's 'Old or New Sonnets' Poetry Contest
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One need not read her horoscope to know this woman's fate, and though wisteria cascades sweet blooms of lavender like snow outside her door, it's still Siberia pervading the dimensions of her mind, for not one fickle thought or patch of moss can thrive where bleakest shadows are enshrined. No bittersweet, no dew drops. . . only loss surrounds her heart. She tries to reminisce, but like a barren continent grown cold, she can't perceive one particle of bliss. She's clasping grief and cannot be consoled! Wisteria's perfume is in the breeze, but in her soul remains a winter's freeze.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
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