Kazma09

In the wood under the indigo skies, A crimson flower grows among the dry, Whose bright and shining petals stretch Across the heaven earth like a sketch. And with its petals bright: Wrapped around the trees with light, Swirling higher, higher, higher, They climbed to the tops of the briars Leaving a cloak as black as night, And with the cloak around the trees The green became dust in the breeze. And when the flower finished its work It lay dying with a satisfying smirk. In the wood under the indigo skies, A crimson flower grows among the dry, Whose bright and shining petals spread Like a plague that will never end.