^~~~~^~~~^


poets are in love
with things of pathos fair
the lure that draws the moth
to the flame's despair

the insect caught in amber
the mateless bird that sings
the colors of the sun that's died
the fairie with no wings

the gnarled, lifeless tree
grass o'r grave's slight swell
the stream that's choked with bracken
the sound of empty shells

the sweetness of the voice
that sings the doom'd femme
the consumptive Mimi
in Puchini's La Boheme

butterflies on velvet
stricken, gently spread
affixed with a pin
tho lovely, they are dead

the vampire is so sensual
tho their victims end is dreer
the eye that is the brightest blue

always sheds the tear


SoulSurvivor
(C) 2014