Amaranthine Lover Writing

All Writing

ruins

A Poem by Amaranthine Lover

here is what I hold in my hand.tales to be told. written unknown, how thereis no origin. there is nothing. to be madeof these old bones, creaking. jus..

moments went

A Poem by Amaranthine Lover

sun sauntering, sun filteringstreaming through most moist silver branchesand I hear in the distance calling,a tune most sad, to be rememberedmost assu..