Tuesday, February 11, 2014


broken, smoldering, pleading yet
sometimes a flame of crimson...blazing,
bright and fierce...too hot to touch...
we cower in terror
 for she who comforts also burns

spinning in tiny circles, floating above
in a perplexed and weary refrain
the edges blur into a cacophony
of pain and despair

Grey, smoldering ashes with
tiny sparks of fire that flare and fade
into bleak and somber quiet. 

in the quiet she dreams
a muddled  kaleidoscope
of all she was and wants to be
snowmen ride on swans
and demons haunt her sleep

soft skin, gentle scent of 
something akin to life and love
rising in the night to pacify
the fretful fears of the weak and helpless.
unyielding embrace of solace hold me now

1 comment:

Sarah Gren said...

All I can say is wow, that is amazing.