poetry

a song stolen

Somber are the tones of the porch-chime...

Chillingly through crystal panes do dance
The nacreous ribbons of nebulous night,
And across the chamber they advance—
Perchance—
To upon this soul alight.

Outdoors the mistral is a murmur
Of an eerie and encircling report,
Sighing of an icy affirmer—
Sojourner—
Courier to winter’s coming court.

Somber are the tones of the porch-chime,
While my heartstrings strum without measure
The lilt of something lost in time—
Sublime—
Echoing with odd displeasure.

Reflect have I on yesteryear,
When I had forsaken one selfishly,
As now the pangs of loss austere—
Severe—
Tax me for my company.

Foolish was I to miscount her love
For a truth less than promisingly timeless
And fail did I to rise above—
Thereof—
My feelings stray and rhymeless.

Listing now are those green days obscure,
While in memory whirls a whispery ache,
As wall of solitude secure—
Immure—
The hopes undone by heartbreak.

Within the search has been unrelieved
For the elusive justice of reason
That might parley my spirit bereaved—
Reprieved—
Of that self-betraying treason.

Once more I have found myself grieving
The penalties paid for that bygone wrong,
As some phantom cold and deceiving—
Thieving—
Steals away with a lover’s song.


 

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