The Solemn Wraith That Passes
The solemn wraith that passes,
once a child whose life in stasis
fell, cursed by the cruel kiss of fate,
scuds as the Autumn clouds across
the full moon of the grieving mind.
Disappearing as the Winter snows
when Spring rain drills the grey repose,
young victim of an adult hate,
in memory you still bear the loss;
each sorrowed thought serves to remind.
The solemn wraith that passes,
wept and shadowed like molasses,
fixes at your throat an amulet
and holds there fast the albatross,
the cross-born love of womankind.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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