Found Poetry from source: “Flowers In The Attic”
by VC Andrews (pg 32 iBook version).
I.
And finally
into that ripe old age,
we squeezed into poverty.
We’re left alone,
repossessed,
none of this is ours.
Life
is a strange voice.
for PA’s Writers’ Digest PAD, Day 11 “Dedication”
II.
The Colour of Dreams
Not so long ago, although I was still young enough to be fascinated
by an ant making its way across the 2nd floor window ….
I touched a dream.
It was voile, and
delicate, and fragile.
All along the edges
it was sunshine
to keep in a box.
Bright.
The colour of lemons.
It was a Sunday colour.
III.
April rain is clarity.
It’s a pink fold on the margins.
A remembered depth.
A remembered ice-stillness
that lingers in vain.
©️ Misky 2019
Leave a Reply