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by Rose Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1169839

I wrote this poem on July 11th, I believe. It's short, but enjoyable. So, enjoy.

The moonlight, pale and yellow, washes over the murky lake, casting an eerie glow upon the water.
The once white-washed walls of the cabin are now spattered with drops of dark red blood.
The cicadas whistle a soulful sonata of regret and deciet.
The night goes on.
© Copyright 2006 Rose (therose at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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