There was hell to pay
for the kindness of sleep.
That
broken
night. Saying
good-bye to
tangled light.
It was a dark ride,
where trees are ghosts,
or parading sentinels.
Found Poetry Source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews, pg 43-45
There was hell to pay
for the kindness of sleep.
That
broken
night. Saying
good-bye to
tangled light.
It was a dark ride,
where trees are ghosts,
or parading sentinels.
Found Poetry Source: “Flowers In The Attic” by VC Andrews, pg 43-45
It's Still Life 
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