Thistle-whisperers are wrapped up tight in robes of periwinkle...
but they get ripped up and dirt falls in speckles from their roots....
it's not the dancers that are killed, but the waltzes that spawned them...
The rest of the imagery falls short and the words just aren't strong enough, or they seem maybe too obvious: "winging in blurs of aqua and rose and dirty, impure emeralds". This line is awkward, and it seems too much at this point and not necessary to be calling them "impure emeralds" at all.
But the second stanza... finalizing the concept... I adore it! I think the dialogue is just perfect, and the way it's formatted lets it trail out wonderfully. Obviously the first stanza is setting up the scenario for this bewilderment -- maybe make it even shorter -- because the last part is just that amazing, and we need only little set up to it.
Gender:
Points: 6517
Reviews: 402