Sun, 01/05/2014 - 20:51 -- Basil-9


In my mind's eye,
I do not shed a tear for the meek
The meek so trite
Enveloped by spite
Lapping up mouthfuls of melancholy
Food for the souls of the misbegotten and bleak

In my mind's eye,
I see crimson blue
Sunshine dancing on a marble scaffold
Swish to a sway, too swift to hold
Wistful thinking of a pair of romantics
More a dream, than anything true

In my mind's eye,
I see etchings of the past
Badge of the wise
For some a blessing, yet others a mere guise
Tracing a tender cheek of one of the untouched
Skin may crinkle but knowledge will always last

In my mind's eye,
I see billows of steam
Pulling roughly to a moan
A slight gasp, to a tempered groan
Scarlet lingers in between lace and fine linen
Longing flowing rapidly, settling into a peaceful stream

In my mind's eye,
I see books piled up, forming a long stack
Each heave of breath to take
Cold wind does a spirit make
Cackling resonates from the distance
By an Aspen Tree I sit, as everything fades to black


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