.
It seems all around the world
something is happening to the girls.
The problem unto which I refer,
is their propensity to de-fur.

Deforestation is not so nice,
not for the humble ***** lice.
Extinction beckons for this bug,
for the want of a nice warm rug.

© Pagan Paul (2017)

.
Random components in a broken box,
all there is of the jigsaw dreams.
Unaligned pieces distorting the picture,
a wooden tapestry split at the seams.
On the perimeter frame of insipid ice
molten images interlace in mist,
reaching for completion, a solid visage,
defying the puzzle a right to exist.


© Pagan Paul (09/10/17)

.
O' Widow of the Worlds, embrace thy darkest hours.
Breathe evenings cold perfume, recall woods and flowers.

Glide proud amongst thy memories and foggy dreams,
pause pensive, gently pick a black rose for thy hair.
Give tears, settle 'pon thy fate as destiny deems,
walk through the mist and dissolve into the air.

At peace 'pon thy darkest hours,
sigh alone, a door to close,
sadness sleeps for all eternity,
the silent death of a rose.


© Pagan Paul (10/10/17)