Meandering down the trail of old brick,
Saw I a siren of death and sick,
Her skin so pale, it looked diseased,
All was nothing compared to her beauty,
She lay across a hill on a blanket,
Her raven hair at each of her flanks and,
She had open a tome of what appeared to be names,
Also undressed, I looked away ashamed,
She wore only a set of bedroom garments
And eye coverings, all black adornments,
Scars radiated through all of her features,
And sat beside her were to handsome creatures,
Pups of age and loyalty,
To Her, I guessed, they owed fealty,
Ferocious beasts they, they peered at me,
I was but calm, unfaltering,
Twas only then did she spare me a gaze,
She smiled then also, and beckoned me stay,
For whatever reason, I felt necessary,
To comply to each whim, each want and need,
She rested on her stomach across a grave,
One that jutted out among the staves,
One leg kicked up, the other lay,
She appeared so peaceful, given the day,
I bowed my head, keeping eyes for respect,
She acknowledged without any contempt,
I stepped forth and approached Her, not to intrude,
I walked presently so as not to be rude,
I arrived and lingered until she spoke,
“My darling, you and I have prods to poke,”
She said ”I’ve watched you since you arrived,
And long before, I must contrive,
I’ve fancied you for quite some time,
So in this yard compose me a line,
I’ve planned to see you here through,
And to make sure your mind yet is unglued,
You see, I’ve all right to be intrigued,
Your mortal love does yet suit me,
You’ll learn to love me as you do my father,
Of Him you know, you’ve loved much longer,
Of Him you have written countless rhyme,
And now, in love, I’ll have your time,
Then be off, for we can’t be,
So sad, truly, we are misery,
Alas, I will hear you now,
Speak your rotting words of love, perhaps a vow.”
Shocked, I stumbled in my mind,
Speechless, I groped for a rhyme,
To compose for a lady that asked me such,
Much less, for one with love’s interest,
I searched across the vast of land,
For the most somber sorrowful strand,
“Sweet dying flower, December’s tears,
Grant me a visage of festering years,
My decaying heart rots at the loss,
Knowing the pair of us are lost,
If this be the only sight of you,
Granted my eyes this one time through,
Every night hereafter I will weep and weep,
Until I may see eternal sleep,
Your endless eyes, and body fine,
Would I reminisce of touch, and taste wine,
Until I may lay in bed with you in,
To wait forever sounds like death and ruin.”
I whispered my last line and there she quaked,
“Oh,” she said ”how my heart does ache.”
We looked at each other and then i knew,
Who her father was, and then Her too,
She was the keeper of the dead and dying,
Of which my heart knows not of crying,
Fancied with me as I was with her,
Her father, Death, my greatest Sir,
One day, I thought, I’ll make her mine,
The three of us then, will rule darkness entwined.
-
Like she said, I then had to leave her,
At least until i died and could see her,
She bade me well with a full lipped kiss,
Her touch of lip so cold, and bliss…
Upon the path I again stray,
Enjoying my otherwise darkened day.
