I enjoy peculiar fun when there is neither wind
nor noise of rain. Lo! autumnal eve darkened
round to haunt the place where passion reigns.
Even afore the trumpet sound perennial gems
decked the plain. “If I could speak with tongue
of angels; would paint thus future on the skies.
Clip on wings of righteousness; shed not tears
on love’s demise.”
With candor mild as I grew wise; viewed thus
world with gracious eyes. Lo! unmasked these
features shade delight; and clutched its sword
with fierce surmise. A silent prayer whispered
round as though reaching out to grab the cold.
“Lo! to vengeance and glories of the bold; as
buds and blossoms thus unfold. Let time thus
pass to none be told; spirit’s secret hides like
gold.” I saw beyond barriers of threshold.
Amid thus thicket beneath herbs alone;
Breath froze before my lips could moan.
Photo credits: Pinterest