Poetry – Page 2 – Inking Prose & Poetry

Storm Damage

At dawn
torn blossoms litter our bed:
storm damage.

A breeze whispers
through the peony roses
expelling scents of Mum.

Oriental lily
stains the wings
of a white butterfly,
golden.

Above the city
light pollution leaks amber
into the pearl moon.

At dusk
the dim flicker
of a dying star.

Petal filigrees
press stencil patterns on snow
echoing full bloom.

As I burn your soul
onto paper, a butterfly
lands on my pen.