Tempara..

An old mountain
calls out..
to
the Mural
sparkling
like
a ghastly skull
which
tendered
it's breast

An old moon
gazes
at..
the contemptuous sky
resembling
an incomplete
sonnet..
longing
to be unfurled..


The Oldest
worms
squirmed
her fresco..
Her eyes
their imaginings
of
a pasture
golden..
with
glee..