The Meadow Rose

Whisper

Welcome to my world,

Where cherries blossom,

And bobolinks grow.

And periwinkle blooms here, 

in even heaps of snow.

The wind may whistle,

A dog may crow. 

But not a peep may I make,

When I meet the beady eye of a doe.

A crack of something new,

The smack, and lip of my chew.

A berry, here or two.

I tiptoe,

and wander.

What fear?

The enticement,

It beckons me so.

It's soft song whispers

Of laughter untold.

Sauntering out a pang, 

A pain.

In vain, 

don't be sold!

Tantalizing, 

the days slow to unfold.

*snap*

I hear the earth crack,

a splintering twig,

A pair of feet?

Echoes, through snow.

In quiet reverie, 

I think of Poe—

And his crow.

I lie beneath a starless dome.

As I start to surrender,

This weight of woe,

I dare not look upon its face.

It's scars dictate,

Marks or Rembrandt remarks..

"nature; I look at it 

and try to translate it."

Do I see owl eyes,

Or hawks, in silent chase?

Glaring down at me.

In my mind's eye,
I hear the owl cry.
Teary-eyed,
but not I—
I grow weary, wandering lost
for hours now.

My heart dries—
The light fades from my eyes.

The color left,
When the stars quit telling me their stories.
And day blotted out the sky's deep blue ink.

Do you hear the ringing?
Where's my ring?

I tie the knot
of fleeting loss,
unraveled from my hands.

Wise words escape me.
I hear a hiss—
is it a jackal,
or a serpent's kiss?

Goliath's bane
sings its song.
My head dips,
earth wraps me in spell,
my knees sink into the waiting ground.

I crumble.
I cry.
I lie to die.

Watching the night,
I fall—like leaves,
decay beneath soft grass.

Rats, roaches, vultures,
carve their feast upon my form.
Yet my soul, ajar, escapes
through cracks in the mold.

I am gone,
but not wholly.