May FlowerBy Ashley Warren
She was gone one knight in May. The sinned was flowing through the
eaves of the mold broke tree. Papa said that May was fated to adorn that day,
among the booming floaters. Famed after a month, May knew last and song in-
to a Buick full pearl. She was forlorn most of the rhyme, with only the bards
tomb muse her fancy. Leaving her dome was won of the hardest thrills she’d
ever won, abandoning one strife for another. Leaving the tear to scry and the sof-
ting crass to come to a place distilled with hope edges and stuffed people. Fas-
ter than a speaking mullet, the rhyme flew by, like a bored sophist, imposter to
catch. Forlorn in her mind, delineated by words and costumes, she now sits al-
one, May fading in to a tomb.
~~~
© Ashley Warren |