She cannot live her day out loud
and nightly trods her dark and hollow tomb
holding silent vigil
for a swiftly dying soul
and pen in hand
in desperate measure
she writes for her life
if not sanity at least respite
as each scene that never was is a moment
true upon the page as the words flow
soldiers marching cadence
across each pale blue line
in desperate foray an
assay against encroaching dawn.
© Perle Champion 07/07
2 comments:
cacoethes scribendi...the great urge to write - really some people have the great urge to write and it is a form of art some may not understand but who cares it one for of expression ...a form of art
hello
Hi.. nice set of poems you've got there..
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