Such Time, Images Cause Angels To Weep

Such Time, Images Cause Angels To Weep In a room, an ancient table sat, on it an open book An open closet with coat and a hat, a dream death and its look. In a dark house, silence that weaves and flows in its long halls, sorrow sings In its backyard, weeping trees full of crows dark melody, that death brings. In the night, its long shadows spin and play embraced by the moon's glows Darkness, terror that relieves bright of day fear, that nobody knows. A sad dream, Poe walks in his weary sleep Such time, images cause angels to weep. Robert J. Lindley, 3-01-2018 (Old poem, revisited)