Through mine eyes I see divine
To taste among thieves the sacred of wines
A thorny rose prick of life so sweet
Fill my glass with life's deceit
Vines of passion bare no fruit nor fair
Entangles my limbs, my flesh it snares
In a garden of lies my bouquet to pick
Withered and wrought
Blackened as a candle wick

Copyright 2003 Stefanie Evans


 
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