untitled
Fire
Sonnet
Fire burning the
land for miles around
Was I bewitched so by the thin red line
To notice not that time released its hold
And let pale Iris snip the silver twine
To steal sweet youth before it turned to gold.
Existence now is not what I was told;
No seraphim and harps to grace my ear,
Just silence, painful silence, and the cold
Discomfort of my masochistic fear,
So icy cold, yet somehow seems to sear
My soul until the ache's too much to bare,
As mortal life mirages now appear
Intangible are they; away they tear.
Mistake, it was; the curtain fell too soon
When razor's edge did charm me like the moon.
Message
Board For This Poem
All poems
on this site are copyright to their writer, "Poetic745" and
"Artemis745".
Lasik Clinic
bravenet.com