WrongSide

Tangled

Posted in Poetry by Fiona on November 22, 2009
Remembering the Ghost - Francis A Willey

In the midnight of remembering, I am wound, tight as a Lark

in a moonlit garden, fraught with Nicotina and Columbine, where

Memories are Breadcrumbs and trail back to the SweetSpot, which

we search for, hands dirty, on nocturnal knees.

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