Footsteps

Footsteps

A Poem by michaelbourne

There is no more coming to,


Frayed seams of time passing through
the corset some grandmother
knit for you.

The littles blossom as they do.

lips unfurl unto a breath
of the hanging hag, spewing
winds of spoiled flowers
and murdered stags.

© 2014 michaelbourne


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Added on June 26, 2014
Last Updated on June 26, 2014
Tags: poetry, crazy, stag, rhyme