Kites...

With a rose in her hair,
Gold kites in the wind,
Virtue in the air,
Existence of sin.

The sent of the angels,
Extracted from a lavenders soul,
Drops of jewels,
Made in their epitome.

Her veil floats,
In the cunning air,
The moonlight gloats,
Secret despair.

You came and took more than you deserve
You left behind tears,
Is there anything more than the power of words?
The pond is stale with fear.

She walks down the aisle of lightning,
The lightning of ecstatic lights,
The silk robes spun by the angels made her look stunning,
But there was a stain of putrid wine.

No apt state of solidity,
A disoriented pendent,
Who's to judge lucidity?
One day the sky shall descend.

Picture from the net - ( sarahdbelle.wordpress.com )