Victoria Rose Poems

called on by a quiet shore,
a calm, and lucid, lonely shore,
not in a dream-she's wide awake-
but by a voice through whistling wind,
...

i raced through a thousand gardens
picking out the weeds
catching all the falling leaves
making strides through grass and trees
...

far from the ground,
a sun faced sea shines on me.
no trouble i see - but a sail with no wind
to catch no worry in the air.
...

all but one lonely soul
hangs from limbs of tired trees
in a dense forests of hearts,
and endless flow of blood through leaves.
...