by Unknown
Aug 2009 348 Views 0 comments
State of Grace
The dreams we have lost
staring aimlessly into the hearth,
to the flicker fleck of burning turf.
Reflective, of days to come,
days gone by.
The blue hued smoke,
billows its tunnell along the soot lined flue,
Hoping escape from hades rue.
Her odour hangs in limbo
like a choke on my senses
My nostrils flare to her sulphur touch.
Distilled a silent spirit
Nothing moves but my dying muse
and searching souls for state of grace
staring aimlessly into the hearth,
to the flicker fleck of burning turf.
Reflective, of days to come,
days gone by.
The blue hued smoke,
billows its tunnell along the soot lined flue,
Hoping escape from hades rue.
Her odour hangs in limbo
like a choke on my senses
My nostrils flare to her sulphur touch.
Distilled a silent spirit
Nothing moves but my dying muse
and searching souls for state of grace
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2009
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