Saturday, July 28, 2012


The mirrors round about us move,
Your bag of tricks discerning.
The quiet screams that fill my mind
And ghostly winds returning.
While here upon the Autumn breeze
The leafy biers burning.

I dug my grave too deep a thing
To hide your jealous plunder.
Their steady hearts begin to beat
And feed the rolling thunder.
While all the rivers run with blood
And melt the lacy wonders.

In darkness and with brazen hearts
Stood pawns of bitter spite,
Waiting for the moment when
The moon would fall from night
And cut throughout the foggy veil,
Call up the misty light.

Within the midnight haze we hid
And built this flowered shrine.
But frozen noon came sweeping through
And claimed what once was thine.
So silently your wrath poured out
Into cups of bitter wine.

©2012, MLowe. All Rights Reserved.

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