top of page
Search
  • carlyand2

Webworms

On the crest of a hill, on the edge of a farm,

Stands a child-like tree, dipped in gossamer wax,

draped so thick that the chlorophyl dies,

like the rose of a monster, a precious white dress,

it wears its spider silk like a coveted veil

that has swallowed it whole.

9 views

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page