Elegy

By dark_sister

All the beggars, with the horses they would ride.
They would ride to the rescue, ride to the ruin.
They would stampede through the dusted garden,
flashing by me in a fury of wind and heat.
I would be left standing with the dust of my dreams,
all the wilted flowers, the promising petals,
bones of the monster we tried to grow with the roses.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2003 dark_sister
Published on Sunday, August 31, 2003.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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  • A former member wrote: I love the way you wield words, you are a true goddess of poetry. I can*t believe I am the first to commend you on this masterpiece, well done!

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