Alice

Robin

20 Jul, 2016 12:39 PM 
I lay in fields of dying
flowers, perhaps leaves,
maybe even a sea of 
black feathers circling
around me. The cold
autumn winds violently
push me further and
further away from

my governess

who was frantically 
calling for me, her
empty eyes beckoning
for her smiles. Lonely
yet silent, she keeps
on and on, sentencing
me to a melody of

nightmares

while holding her
fairytale books in hand,
books I used to despise
as a child.

But even then,

I reach out
to them,
all the while,
heeding the call
of 

Wonderland.
17936 0 Post a Comment
<< Previous Poem
0

Comments

Post a Comment
No comments yet! Be the first
Your Comment

Do not post other site's link, it will be considered as spam