She clutched a glimpse of blinking reverie
yet now, through stardust flushing out the light
it slid, languished; washed by the grains of time
on pathways where love had been slashed in half
unearthing all the weeds of cycles bleak.
From thinning mists that hang on her dim eyes
the finest consolations from his leave
were comfort, songs and roots of joy well glazed;
and though a dull heart bore as twilight fell
she prayed their charmed flames would ignite; again.
Heather Ober's 10 Lines Contest
* Blank verse, not to be confused
with free verse, has a set metrical pattern.
It is traditionally written in iambic pentameter,
by nette onclaud