Her bronze foggy haunted light
was the splendor of a winter night.
Seen through a black lace of branches.
ornamented with the corpse's of berries.
Stirred my heart with the dark side of merry.
The sky was in a utero of magic
behind it's bedazzled dilated moon.
Fetal snowflakes will be born
in the infant hours, of a dead cold dawn.
Come silent storm,
I already am your willing pawn.