Poetry: Moonbled

Part of my ongoing series Rivalry: A Tale Of Two Spies, this poem was written from Valerie to Rose while Valerie is being held in the Black Tower.

in precious moments we rest our heads

underneath trees we lie on grassy beds

of flowers and freedom from pain

and in truth there is nothing to gain

from holding onto the past or being stuck

in a way it is courage to find the will to pluck

feathers from dead bones and ashes

hold them to the light in long stretches

and sew them gently into wings around

hearts that once bled bowed downed

beloved lay your heart to rest in sacred ground

under a moonbled tree that the fireflies found

and have sweet dreams

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