The winds haunt and howl the late somber nights,
As all the lost lovers lost in clear sights.
Laid out suits in our dear remembrance on,
Made only to work in late season's dawn.
Widows gone with the lost widowing man,
With eyes pale with tears he cries as he can.
Remembered gowns laced clear and drowned in white,
The rancid scratching and tapping of night.
For all whom to hear the lost loving soul,
Wailing to be pure - anointed - annul.
For whom can we promise of true dear love,
Longing the expected gift of a dove?
For winds to haunt and howl in somber nights,
Walk the ghosts and lovers in clear long sights.
The Seven Seals of October - As felt a cold somber night laying out my suit...