Twenty, twenty

You seemed like a lifetime of grief,an Island without stories or liliesto flaunt fragrances of blooms,or streams to sparkle with sunshine; only dirges to the empty chairat the evening meal of mandrakes.The years before joust for infamy,sashaying sideways poppiesfrom thawing clay drippingwith the warmth of an infected summer. The Isolation sucked life out of you,Like…More