+--+

Faint wisps of wind
swirl through peeled,
opened windows.

Subtly rustling
dusty linens
hung dolefully
over vacant chairs.

As their shadows
dance sweetly
on weathered walls.

+--+

Candlelight sways
in the delicate
fragrant whispers
of harvest's yield.

Mid the strike
of midnight's bell
rung across the land.

Veiling thunder clouds
on sapphire horizons
pursue close behind

Distant glints
of lightning
reflecting dimly
through bloodshot eyes.

+--+

1 a.m.

Still.

The midnight oil burns
and somber ink flows
toward corners of pages
soon crumpled and thrown.

The candle's flame
expired as the shadow's
sequestered promenade.

Leaving,

No witness to behold
his passionate embrace
with mistress nightshade.

+--+

His final hope,
as conscious fades.

In death, his dreams
aren't nearly as grey.

+--+

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