Home

ABOUT US

She often speaks of violets

with their damning perfume,

and bodies from her past,

she hardly dare exhume.

She speaks of golden sequins

when she was a chorus girl,

and lovers far and wide,

who sent her in a whirl.

She never speaks of heartache,

for that’s hers alone to keep,

but she cries a thousand rivers

for a love, buried so deep.

Post tags:

No comments yet.

You must be logged in to post a comment.