The wind in the trees
Whispered to me, the drifting sound
Of fleeting faces -

Read or unread, bleeding beneath the surface,
The winding trenches of pain squirming and alive,
Driving the sound home,

The screeching hollowness of life -

And you, you brought the rain…
The flooded park where we roam,
Threadbare and torn, a glimmer of what should never be.

What should never be,
What should never be,
But is.

So I stand alone now,
Breathing in the scent of the lilies in bloom -
Blooming in the dusk, white and proud,

A symbol of a life yet to be lived,
And many more to come before and come again,
The taint of sin muting the soul, stunting the growth -
A fallen Angel who must rise again.

Dena L Moore
December 17, 2005


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I wanted to say thank you to all who have commented on my work recently!! I've not had the opportunity to thank everyone personally so I hope you will forgive me! xo