The Widower
Brittle bones crackle through the hall,
as I slowly trudge to an empty bed.
Outside my window dies a barren Fall,
and what survives but my Winter dread?
Slipping into the bitter-chilled covers?
shrinking beneath ‘til I’m cloaked blind.?
Despising the demons who steal our lovers?
like feckless butchers of the conscious mind.??
Death stares me in my jealous eyes,
withholds from me his seductive knife.
Does he not hear my bitter cries?
Why plague me with abandoned life??
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