51.

Untitled



The final leaf of winter
Tumbles from her bed
Torn by screaming doubt she wanders
Blown by vicious winds of hunters

Plummets softly as a stone
Gentle as a blade of steel
Swift to earth she makes her way
Full of dreams of better days

Strikes not ground but cold hard flesh
To lie immortal, swathed in blood
A memory fading soon to dust
And hope as fiery as Snow White’s crust

From pristine shirt the stain it spreads
And holds the suit-like shroud it dyes
To promise – never let my heart again
Lie wounded, broken, left unseen

Lips soft parted, poised for breath
Match blue eyes now turned to grey
Icicle eyes that pierce the mind
And leave the living far behind