Adriana > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

It was as if staring at an apparition to look at me. Then maybe that was the point, to look at a ghost, to forget I was ever more

Like watercolours carelessly spilled/ Rosy tint fell on the world and it stilled

In mourning I have become a bird as unsightly As grieving crows in barren trees

The skies ring out like church bells, Hollow

Before I am reposed at last, weave me a crown of flowers

Passed on all my sorrows To waves crashing on the shore

Drown in deep blues Sing in strong reds So that you might live in purples

I am the voice of the wind

Swim through old wounds now forgotten

The voice that whispers on your deathbed