Friday 3 July 2015



Scorched



Entwining  into a
fragmentary  essence,
at a juncture in time,
She met herself under
the scorched branches
of an oak tree,torrid
sun at it’s glory,wrathfully
blinding the stretch.
Earth  whirled  draped red,
molten sands anticipated for
drizzles of ethereal grace,
transmuting into a Canaan.
Converging the scattered
trails of today into worthy
harvest for the morrow.
She concealed in hope.
under the ailing milieu.

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