Ash
Ash is blind and boneless, but flies. Colored flames flare the leaf that dies. For a moment, the madman lucid. Sweet milk in the sun turns putrid. The bonfire kills the thing it lights. Ash is blind and boneless, but flies. You may find that devils may care To catch and keep you with them there. The young may sigh, slow, and sicken to find their tongues gray and thickened. Ash is blind and boneless, but flies. A snare denies its bird the skies. Don't be so proud, sure and boasting. See the rooster, plucked and roasting. The grave may loose the one who dies. Ash is blind and boneless, but flies. _______ for Sunday Muse #182 . This is a quatern . Thanks to LiJade.
