Alana Stare Writing

Another old one. I seem to have one good poem in me every few years (where by 'good' I refer to 'good by my arbitrary standards')

This is a really old one, but I figured I could throw some old tidbits in here.

They were married in red. Red was the wine as it flowed past the lips Red wasa her dress as it flowed past her hips Red was her blush, 'neath his f..