Not.
Enchantress
Why do you run?
Do you think I'm a witch
Who will enchant you,
Imprison you in my gingerbread house
And siphon your soul?
Or perhaps I'm Calypso?
Weary of my solitude,
I will keep you on an island
Of desolate beauty.
Maybe I'm a Siren,
Whose irresistible call
Lures you to your demise,
Broken, on sharp, black rocks.
I'm not any of those;
I'm just another lost soul,
Wandering the desert,
Waiting for the rain
So the flowers can bloom.
Poetry by Nancy Sikora
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Written on 2016-07-11 at 03:49
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