Lost in moon beams
with her screams
lives a long forgotten gleam
in filtered light
where thoughts still bite
when in sight
of the dreams for this Turkish rose

This the cell
of her hell
packed with antique wishing wells
of rusted gold
all chipped or sold
dry as bone
but for the tears of this Turkish rose

Behind bars
formed from scars
she makes them shine as bright as stars
once again
there’s no end
still defended
by the heart of this Turkish rose

Time plays tricks
as days eclipse
she measures time with scissor clicks
in ragged heels
and scattered deals
a lost appeal
Another broken seal for this Turkish Rose

Photo – mine