Scotland Calls Her Home
By the gossamer shards of fey lined moon beams,
her spirit walks these streets.
Under billows of foaming oyster clouds,
she searches among the haunted shadows,
of dreams smothered by time.
Drifting o'r the cobbled memories of those diffused phantoms that bid her,
...come home.
Tortured echoes sound boundlessly...
wandering...
wading...
wailing...
reminding her of the life that never was.
Her heart's blood churns in the marrow of her soul,
as the razor blade wind cuts and bites.
Melancholy, silver slips of cast off scion quintessence
lead her on,
beckon to her...
A voice speaks...
"Rest your weary head clan daughter...
you are home, you are home."
YOU ARE READING
Legacy Collection by MystresMyna
PoesiaMystresMyna is our official Mystres of Chatter here at the Pub. This is a collection of her favorite poems and hopes that it brings cheer to those who read.
