Vibrations

The paschal moon. It 
had been involved in? 
                   the palace intrigue.

Night had faulted, the 
pain screams, when a scythe 
                    becomes a prima donna.

You love to hate, kneading 
the grass. Daisies were 
                     waiting for the death dance to begin.

Ah, the honeysuckle has 
a secret to share. Tonight 
                     moon was coming for honeymoon.

The sap which had reached 
the lips of viola, had once 
                     burned the wings of the moth.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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June 30, 2016 at 9:32 AM
this one is also touching so deeply... ovw, what a write... will have to read many more of yours other day. Mesmerising!
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