deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Muses

It is the trinket of a snowflake,     
A crystal raindrop ― pristine,  
       
           
The voice of eternities past;          
These enchantments of my dreams,          
           
It's open and secured,          
A simple complexity,          
           
It is the voice of the treasured poet            
That lives inside of me.
Written by Pishashee
Published | Edited 3rd Jan 2014
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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