Verbena

Drops of garnet on velvety petals. A rose glowing dark at night. Guarding those who dream. In black soil. In black silence. In eternity.+1

Foggy shreds crawl through dark clammy streets. No sunbeam left to pierce the November grey. Retreat, for time has stopped until Spring.+2

Waxen withering roses. Ivy claws clinging to clammy ruins. Candles flameless now, leaving no spark of life. A tomb clad in a veil of rain.+2

Wind and waves. Wandering clouds. A quiet lighthouse. A steaming teapot. White sails and a blue horizon. A heart longing for distant shores.+2

Colourless, powerless, lifeless we appeared to them. Cloyingly gray, sickly and weak. Palefaces they called us...+4

Smoky oil. Hot metal shards. Assembly lines, print rolls, greasy pinions. Feeding the punch-clock. Industry sketched in black and white.+1

Smells like beer. Not freshly drawn, but disgustingly stale and sticky-sweet. Upsets the stomach, and wearing it feels like a hangover. :(+1

Your embrace. So powerful and inviting. Savage... just a bit. Your warmth. Your comfort. Your shelter. Deeply-rooted. Homeward bound.+1

Sprays of salty mist dashing against the pier. A dogger crawling through the bay, haunted by greedy seagulls. Seaweed rocking on the waves.+2

Just a flick of the wrist. The leather jacket drops leaving only bare skin clad in a tank top. Rose Oud as sexy understatement. Cool show.+2