Wren Donato

Almost nothing (Or what might be considered nothing Despite its own distinct notes) But crisp And reminiscent of autumn

She carried her heart On her head not her sleeve For it was harder to lose When her love had to leave They could not just snip

By Wren Donato7 years ago in Poets

Wipe the dust away Scrub yourself clean Of the thousand year old grime You never thought to dredge up It is time to end

By Wren Donato7 years ago in Poets

The metamorphosis of long enforced rules From condemnation of self To a glorious freedom Of the light deterred for so long

By Wren Donato7 years ago in Poets

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