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Posted by Bluesy Socrateaser on Mon Mar 02, 2009 12:55 pm
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Sprinkled fragments
<br />of her love,
<br />lay strewn upon the floor.
<br />Feather-dusted
<br />from the bed,
<br />the maid will come no more.
<br />Darkwoods lightened
<br />from older age,
<br />and stories long since told.
<br />A figure lingers at the post,
<br />the memories leave her cold.
<br />Time has taken
<br />what spirits could not,
<br />her shadows fill the room.
<br />So still the breeze that passes now,
<br />stirring within the gloom.
<br />
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