365 Days of Poetry: One-Hundred and Eighty-Six

red flowers like.
a cluster of rosebuds.
ever new.
the magic turning.
pure at the beginning.
of apocalypse though.
a final conclusion.
is only days away.
it cannot come.
quickly enough.
the bitter taste of ending.
festers if left to sit.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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