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
