Following on from yesterday’s poem. An illustration that almost fit now has a poem of its own.
She walked through summer fields
Touching beauty with her fingertips
Seeing nothing for the sun was dark.
The scent of lilies filled the air
But her head was full of bitter blood
And the rancid smell of death beneath the sheets.
The wind blew and wrapped its words around her like a shroud
No more joy in all that lives and breathes
The blue and green and flower petal pink
For he was gone and lilies sunshine and the summer breeze
Were loveless as dull rain pounding on fresh-turned earth.