Elegy To John Lennon
Born in a womb of honeyand fragrance of roses
his hands like buds
rose dust on his face
and the fire of the flame rose
his smile the rose's serene
incandescence
his voice the song of birds
when the rose catches fire
pollen rains down, ashes
on the winds of time
ashes blowing into rhyme
Poetry by Erin Yes
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Written on 2007-02-22 at 00:00
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Kathy Lockhart |
