She has folded
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odours bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone.
Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odours bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone.
( Sylvia Plath )
[ Ariel ]
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