November 9, 2011
By , Middleburgh, NY
Fortnight into illuminate August,
You were an intricate earthen path
Stumbling without knowledge,
She was drawn to me,
As if Isis were
Clutching contentment.

Ascending through a vivid field of flowers,
Worriedly watching Osiris,
Angel of Death
Took her in native crimson,
From that angelic October meadow,
On lonely November fourth,
I was as empty as her.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback