To Wake In Love

A crest of messy, restless hair
That waving tide upon her brow,
Brushed by rushing morning air.
The night we spent is over now.
Unprepared for her departure,
I wondered when her eyes would open,
To see the wounds left by the archer,
Who finds his mark when love is chosen.
Will she choose to leave me here,
Without the kiss, whispered promise.
Will time and distance interfere
To loose her grip upon this fondness.
Pray, if this be the poor man’s bower,
Let her sleep another hour.
Pray, you sky, let loose a shower,
So she might stay another hour.

Like Wisps

Autumn was punctuated
by a sudden shower
Of icy, crystal clarity.

And so we drew
Into the sharp void
Of an honest winter.

The problem with lies is
they become so brittle when frozen.
Burdened with translucence.

A tendency to fall apart.
Not worth the effort,
Not keeping us warm.

We needed something that sizzled.
Something to warm our hands about,
some kind of fire or friction.

We found it in warfare,
but lost it in victory.
Too high, the stack of headstones.

The tall shadow and crisp air
caused desperate reflection;
Why were we here?

So we gave into stillness.
And then we saw it,
The Truth.

The flames were our prison.
The fields of blood, our keepers.
Our loss, our light.

We vanished.
Chased by winter winds,
Like wisps, into the night.

The Face

It calls, but never answers.
It takes, but never receives.
This hollow, enchanting dancer
only comforts and deceives.

It glows for the sake of shadows.
It bends the will and mind.
This siren’s song, upon the gallows,
kisses hearts and swallows time.

It dwells deep, in tasted tears.
It leads men to wasted years.
Hollow screams as judgment nears
It is the face of faceless fears.