Cayden Scribner Poems

It is eve as she stands in the cathedral
The rose on the window reflects a natural shine
She attempts to clear her name in grace of the divine
...

At the edge of night and the break of day
The sky slowly became filled
Not with the grey and Smokey clouds that you might imagine
But those made of crimson
...

Her face was spinning in the cup
Which meant that sugar was plenty
It was smoking, as per usual when I saw her
So I took a sip, and drifted off
...