From A Maid
Someone feels the sunset falling, falling like summers swan into a wintry shadeFeels the cold of leaves turning, turning like the flower from a maid
In the sunset shadows colours bleach and fade,
An iceberg shatters into lines of distant cliffs and Forever fell
In a darkness so severe and sere from which an Autumn witch was made
Angry creatures wakened from/ lakes of the frozen spell,
Your name tonight is written well
In letters older than the hands of Time
On Towers burning just like pantomime
Something cloaked in verse so blank with rank refuse
Appeals like Nothingness with a thankless excuse
In the sunset shadows bleach and fade
Feel the cold of leaves turning, turning like the flower from a maid~
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2016-08-27 at 22:45
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