Rosealia

hark solemn her

intentions, drawn upon fired cross-blades,

gripped, of

melting spirits, flawlessly serrated,

to one another they flow

laying firmly,

together, 

she plays harp devils, nightly

recoiling, 

engraved ivy trailing, round her silvered chest,

she breathes, bone-white 

soft-snake tensing her

hair, of phoenix tail feathers writhe

through gaoling winds,

menacing, lace delicate cheeks

of pure-ivory defined. 

Reviews

[Jonathan De Elvira]

Intelligent use of words you got there,
hey, i might as well have you as my tutor...lol...
you've done a wonderful job there...great write...