In his world there was no place for weakness
or so he said to his lady fair. “Oh! secrets you
say?” she whispered with an apple blossom in
her hair. “Though you lean upon with broken
heart; under thus lawn than skies more clear.
Bless the ends that brought us here; so much
to hope and none to fear.”
Thus held his thoughts their dark career; Lo!
chiseled face so raw and vicious; spoke on the
darkest evening of the year. “Patient my dear,
your tender heart can not bear. Hear so gentle
wind and waters near; making song for lonely
ear.” No sooner had she turned around; heard
pensive laughter, inhuman sound.
In bloom of peach and rose’s bud;
He lusted for her flesh and blood.
Photo credits: ru.dhgate.com
Posted for Midweek Motif @ Poets United