The Last Tailor
by Steve Tanham
The clothes he wears are not his own They dressed the flesh to suit the dead With colours picked from nature’s prime And perfumes rare that round his head Entwine a crown of rule and law In broken pieces whispering of a thread ——- The white ones came and spun the rope That covered tailored blood and green And in his eyes they painted … Read More The Last Tailor
Sun in Gemini 
You must be logged in to post a comment.