'prince of Time'
A fierce wind howls, and dark clouds race across the horizon,
and beneath a hood draped over his face, a man whispers;
of a vast land with wild waters, of streaking sunrises and sunsets,
and woodlands in a thousand glorious shades and colors.
The Prince of Time, has heard her prayers calling for him,
past time and destiny and beyond- her tears have beckoned;
his mission, to find her and together they will dwell in his world,
she has dreamt of him, though his face is always darkened.
Yet, she loves him with all her heart and soul- this she knows,
over mountain peaks high and rivers and woods wild, he journeys;
now, he stands in the shadows in her room, in the mist of dawn,
hair in tangles, her skin ivory- she gives breath to his fantasies.
He steps forward to reach out a hand, to brush her tears away,
an in that moment he fades away, as if dust in the dawn light;
a bird is singing and her room smells of the forest as she rises,
a soft touch has awaken her, a lover's caress so slight.
All that day she is haunted with unknown feelings and loneliness,
wandering the garden, she walks lost in dreamy thoughts brazen;
he watches from the foliage and whispers, "the time is soon,"
she hesitates- listening, then he fades away in the dappled sun.
That evening soft candlelight flickers on the walls of her room,
it casts shadows in the corners- a breeze fills the silence;
she sits at her dressing table, brushing her hair until it shines,
suddenly, a wind catches the strands and tangles the brilliance.
He stands behind her waiting and slowly removes his hood,
but she has no fear, as she stares at him in the mirror;
she has been waiting- as he twines his fingers through her hair,
then leading her to the bed, he whispers, "it is time dreamer."
She is found in the morning, peaceful and deathly still,
her face so pale against the white sheets, her lips lush red;
her eyes closed to this world, she looks asleep about to rise,
dark clouds drift ,thunder roars- they pray at her deathbed.
Raindrops fall on her casket as it is lowered into the ground,
the small gathering bow heads as they lay a rose in the chill;
and although she had been old she is buried in a wedding gown,
of ivory, lace and pearl beads- as requested in her will.
Unseen by the mourners, a vision appears of a lovely woman,
and a handsome man, young and beautiful - he holds her close;
her wedding dress sparkles and she looks up at him with love,
and as they fade away- she holds to her lips a red rose.
_________________________
November 1, 2017
Poetry/Rhyme/'Prince of Time'
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9960-60-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Love Poem-Rhyme Only
sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
Rhyming verified on www.rhymer.com
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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