The Dark Place
Midday, hazy, clouded sun
shadows creep and crawl along the grassy run
bent and saturated by the constant inundating rain.
The emerald greens and blossoms that bloomed
fade into some strange yellow pallid hue that looms
where no creature dare run, step or fly.
The garden once effervescent with protruding life forms
is a sallow dingy memory of lost spring time once adorn
and the paths so clear and open are muddied in the flow.
The humid day causes all to languish
lamenting the day on end without light or sun anguish
as the trees hover low, branching on the ground.
Vestige phantoms appear like ghosts of time
where nothing is constant but mere prisoner in the grime
of gloomy days and darkening space in the dark place.
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