Vincent Silvertop


Prophesy - Poem by Vincent Silvertop

I hear the sea, speak of she.
And on a bed of forget me nots.
I know the path has thistles on each side

Dont go to the desert.
The prophesies dream.
Of peace and harmony.

This forbiden love.
More sweet than doves set free.
Can be touched.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 17, 2011


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