Reid@YWP

A storm is brewing ahead,

as everything falls dead,

the leaves are no longer green,

and the sun cannot be seen.

Dark clouds cover the blue sky,

as the wind kisses the land like a sigh.

It was just a fluke that I happened to see

The ghost of a girl in 1893

I didn't think much of her, tried to ignore

But then she came 'round in 1894

A spirit was not something that I had wanted

Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

That I was ink and glue and wax but mostly, I was papercuts

Did you know that, when you read me, I am made of memories

The fairies are out!

Their scaly protrusions flutter and snap,

Wicked claws somehow rounded gently.

The moors are secluded,

Stray sheep eyeing the

Colors combine together into darkness

My brush coats the canvas

Deep blues

Dark purples and reds

I attempt to recreate the feeling of darkness