Night silenced moon ascends as lonely dim art
while burnished tears bow from a silent gray tomb.
Songs of dreams belong among the red skylarks
as she clutches the lost arch of sorrow’s boon.
Time wades along wild rivers of salt-green dust,
within auburn hair lies are fragrance of musk,
the staid broken glass with dark sonnets of time.
She’s gone now alone with sapphires of rhyme.
Copyright © julie heckman | Year Posted 2011