I know … It’s late The dew laden plains reaching up Caressing the threads of my velvet red cape I course through bewitching woods
Night after night I flit through moonlit paths Surveilled by the all seeing, ever knowing owl Distant howling of the prairie wolf My tragic past finds no rest, enmity on the prowl
Soul searching, I endlessly roam the castle hallways Why does my weary spirit find no rest Why dost it search and toil in vain We are now worlds apart, both physically and spiritually … in pain
Haunting forgotten rhythmic heart beats Remind me of distant days gone by In frenzy I search, In longing I cry out But no sound emanates from what’s already dead
I know … it’s late I cannot find my true love He’s gone, I’m afraid The haunting sounds of midnight
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Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
Different to the types of subjects I normally write about. Up late one night ...