Cinquain.

No description.

Does the inner beauty match the outer? Perhaps!

Poem; father and son.

MOSAIC

by: Tyna Braxton.

Some petals of the flowers work as death traps for insects that are excited about the opportunity of having nectar, without realizing that the well blended crab spider is waiting to hug them to death.

A little poem about faerie fashion.

Memories burrow deep beneath scar clusters once called a tender heart

Shadows dance like hauntings from the past, never revealing their hidden faces.

I love you.

Two pieces in one post.