Jun 17, 2005 03:06
You Remind Me of the Spirit I Danced Upon Death
Once Upon A Time
the night of the town was cold
He was bundled in His blankets
and the snow was fresh outside His window.
The snow was fresh, the clouds were gone
the moon was full
And a pale spectre made tracks
for he was the living
but everyone would claim he was dead.
he shined and reflected light
like a silver ring
He was asleep
he would not be detered.
His window, while shut, was unlocked
Not an obstacle to have feared
but he found it less of a hassle
His window slid open
the cold wind blew in unforgiving
and he closed it to prevent an unnecessary
discomfort for Him.
A child He was
for all the years He lived
So useful too
but not like He'd ever predict.
he reached out to touch
leather-painted fingers cold on a dark cheek
He stirred
he anticipated it
Nothing.
he leaned forward
and whispered His name
Two tiny syllables and six letters long.
Sleep made Him speak
and spoke another name back
Three average syllables and nine letters long.
he was pleased
Wake up, he whispered dreamily
And it was no dream no more.
poetry,
final light