Amaryllis whispers to me her words
The girl's voice stolen away long ago
And from her windowsill there go the birds
Heading straight into the sky to and fro
Bed made of velvet on top of a hill
Her body withered in all of the years
Hunters travel through for a deer to kill
Lead to the house from a trail of red tears
They come to her home and do not knock
Breaking all of her best China and toys
Smashing grandfather's tall maplewood clock
Depriving Amaryllis of all her joys
Blood, you know, is all Amaryllis cries
For today is when she finally dies
YOU ARE READING
Love and Fantasy
Poetrypoems written between classes, in notebooks, over lunches, and in the shower. ranging from emotional haikus to fictitious sonnets. are you looking for angst, fun, heartbreak, and an odd tangent about pigeons? read this then my dear fellow #1 in Pers...
