Loves Lyre
Loves Lyre
The days are longer than the marches
to the sunsets long awaited peace
of lovers lost in ego driven searches
for memories - too long away - to reach.
The scent of you, like flowers, slowly faded
washed away in tears of selfish fear
as war has left us all a bit more jaded
less certain of - for what it is - we care.
Dreams reduced to fitful, twitching, aching
to reclaim the picture fading in the dust
wondering if the loneliness is owing
to the cracks in young devotions crumbling trust.
Darkness cannot blanket duties virtue
nor duty douse a living passions fire
for when they sound the bell for curfew
on the wind there drifts the sound of lover’s lyre.
7/28/2014
for – Isaiah Zerbst
contest – Fill Up a Scroll
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