Of Late

Somehow realize of late
there are ghosts on every step of The Way
Holding books of pages on fire with an eerie lambent glow
There are shadows cast from window shades where
An angel with a sleeping pill spreads childhood wings across the snow,
Turn pages of my Fate
Crumple paper years in the folds of bosom's soul light warmly shines
She shames The Moon with her tears those lucid diamonds of dream
Once my someone thought of holding close as Heaven's lost embrace
Tells my fortune in the lines of her face and eyes
Of late, somehow realize . . .



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 657 times
Written on 2014-10-07 at 02:33

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