Disarranged
by cereseithne
The snowy woolly poesy springs up
through the orifices of a flower pot
in search of a fortress to call its own
and farther bolt from the calcareous soil
it used to entrench its sickly roots.
YOU ARE READING
A Voyage to Anthemoessa
PoetryLonely, we blazed through the precipitous trails of our perennial springs as though we were not distinctively dwellers of our own lands. Its conundrums, which oftentimes hit us like combers, we endeavor to embark on to illuminate its intricacies. We...
