These stones, once enchanted, now leave no trace
of a distant magic in a foreign tongue -
just dream-prints left to carve this place.
A stranger breed has now begun
and left its tracks amidst this space,
the souls left blinking without a sun.
History spared time's rude grace.
We leave our prayers among the bones.
Bittersweet and green,
simple in its mien,
Potent bloom and sheen,
pressed on lips so clean,
Poison felt so keen
hangs her life between.
Now let winter's spell
seek out the newly hung moon
and transform the sky.
I have no idea why I hadn't seen this magnificent work! Ilove it!
Wonderful, Brendan! Superbly crafted! I marvel at your skill, truly!
"History spared time's rude grace."
Beautiful, such stunning imagery.
I love the rhyme scheme pattern! Catches you off guard almost
such words, wish i can get them so easily
The last two stanzas are gorgeous~
It reads well... good job!
it has great imagery.