Saturday, September 4, 2010

Still, She Haunts Me

Death sleeps by greenish glow of hazy nights.
A mist lay over finely chiseled stone.
The howling of the dogs at soft moonlight
could never leave my mem'ry on its own.
A simple whisper cut through droning sound;
a tale of lovers torn apart by sea.
The girl who retches, grasping at the ground;
the boy who waves goodbye on his right knee.
I never heard a sound so sad as this.
Wind-whispered stories masked for death's cold kiss.

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