Michele Marie Nester
Elegantly cascading from her soft baby blue eyes,
While also enhancing the delicate features of her precious face
Are the ever present sorrow filled eyes gently raining.
Looming over an old Gothic coffin, while glimpsing into her future foretold in the hollow eyes of death,
Suddenly brought forth the harsh reality of utter remoteness.
Engulfing flames from a funeral pyre surrounding the lifeless beauty.
Firewood crackling in the nighttime air,
Smell the sweet ardour of love freshly