With rushes wrapped around thy head like nature’s crown,
Perchance to dream, perchance to drown
In waters of thine essence own,
Thy brother hath thy lips instead
Of he who holds thy spirit fast
With fragrant kisses now long past
And nothing lies between thy legs
To blossom.
As like from bed thou dost appear with fallen gown
Perchance to dream, perchance to drown
Beneath the weeping willow tree.
The soul doth shift from easy grace
When once devoted lovers part.
A floral dirge becomes thine art
For nothing lies within thy heart
To blossom.
(Poem by: Alexandra Lucas)
Photo’s Name: Ophelia
By Matthieu Soudet
Via: Pixoto
No comments:
Post a Comment