< Issue 1 >
Flowers in December
by Catherine Dakota Bjørnevog
Flowers plucked from my wound
Leave a swanshaped shadow mark
Only the faint smell of roses pruned
Will rest where there once grew a heart
Earth is thrown on my last face
Rain becomes snow with no words of their own
Silent flakes fall on amazing grace
I have no longer earth as home
Now a memory has taken my place
Daughters of my courage true
Each one from different height
Can you not see me standing among you
Entombed in the last morning light
Moving on frozen ground knowing
Between the epilogues and the first walked mile
Every rose you planted in me still growing
Red in winterpetals of my smile
HTML Comment Box is loading comments...