Friday 14 February 2014

Bowing to the wall.

Facing it at morn, 
It's magnetism lures. 
From afar it is in seen,
And the storm is conjures.

The time made crevices,
Howling wind it moulds.
The rock face of memories,
Imminent  future to be told.

Golden jaws of beauty,
Aside a large puddle of rain.
Waves whap  the cliffs of life,
Her face in stone, it did contain. 

Wolf

Dedicated to Matilda