Some people dream of little things Some people dream of
things with little wings So does the fairy of which she
always sings Some of the finer folk hear her laugh as she
sings She is the reason we dream of little wings She is the
fairer of the little things She is the fairest of things
with little wings.
The sun, lightly caressing your soft features
filling your body with warmth
And wrapping you in a blanket of heat,
tanning your skin, giving you life
Burning your flesh into dry meat
wilting flowers beauty and sucking the earth
bleaching your bones as you lie in your grave
The sun, that wonderfully horrible,
double-edged blade of the sky
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Two poems that need titles.
Title this poem? Opinions?
I'd suggest "Things with Wings" and "Dry Bones"
Reply:1st one; hidden dream
2nd one; Sun
Reply:Little winged dreams
Double-eged life
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