Reid@YWP

Pandora's box held Despair 
it held the fated end,

humanity held in a snare
of their own offends

but after the release, 

in the box remained
a single little spirit

Like a gear slowly rusting

With feet like cement

We are zombies of snow and sleet

Brain fog taking control

Poetry has a silent power 

In the way that poets 

don’t need words to communicate 

With one another; 

We simply see a wildflower 

"Ew, you're being so gay."

So being gay is illegal now?

"Dude, stop faking it."

Do you want me to change?

"What happened to you to make you feel this way? It must have been awful."

Autumn, she is melancholy. The wind in the trees is louder, the leaves gone and withered, leaving less privacy for the forest.

Lush and light

and born in summer

blue and bright

thine eyes of slumber

in clover to be

of citrus and green

with luck of four