Day 51
17.04.2014
Topic: Ironclad garden
Topic given by Michelle
Metallic smell of freshwater
A rusty taste of green in the air
The Iron rose blossom
With all of its heavy pride
Worn like a thorn crown
That would make necks and backs
Bend on a weaker soul
To the ground
The Master of the garden
Holds her heaviest burdens
close to her chest
As she speaks to the rest of her clan
They have all worn her iron
but not in the way that she has
Her power lies like a carpet around their necks, and they crawl to her command
She adress them as her carpet crawlers, her lambs
As they lie there half in their sleep
Worshipping the feet of their rose
While she can see it all
The only one that holds the key
To the staircase that leaves upwards and out of sight
MesAyah 
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