A Place For Poetry: Part 2

She Scatters

Woven dust,

Bound ash passing as flesh,

She’s fragile,

Scatters in the storm.

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White linen,

Tucked around such ice,

So cold,

Her body brings a chill.

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Warmth was months past,

She used to have that heat,

But now comes winter,

And we make her into ash