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A deeply azure petaled rose sits across the sky as if it were a constellation reaching toward a desert horizon at night. Silver stem of the rose turns to gold as if it were a cut rose growing a mystical gold root that intertwines with the landscape. Brilliant colors, mixed media, ink detail, pencil realism, oil paint, air brush, street art, unity 3d, master work.
Alison,
My time grows thin. The crow tracks me.
Worn heavy thoughts. Am I simply dim?
I fought for more. When is more too much?
Destiny. Where grace blossoms.
The bend takes me where I don't belong.
Fate calls me back. I see I am not happily lost.
I am no ghost, forgive me only improperly engrossed.
Heartbreak a pastime drug, my knot of love.
May gravity touch what I cannot.
Courage grown a compromising love.
Now I stand yielding a future few could plan.
1ov3
David
Post Script: I raise my eyes, and gaze upon a connection re-grown. A chapter turns, what's new invites what is old. This story seeks a pen, a hand. Could it be we have no last dance?
