Soul Paintings

As the body a dwindling womb folds into fall
An ethereal spirit grows from it's silver chord
Although for this there is no word,
All along was felt there may be something more
Than being lost amongst the fold,
Seeking range in a higher place
The pictures painted on your face.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 301 times
Written on 2021-11-09 at 14:04

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