Neath the Mask
These dark forces held at bay,
those that play before light of day,
slipped through the playground of my mind,
marred, scarred, and without regard...
Many a day had come and gone,
drifting back to times gone past,
though has left me, thoughtful and morass...
‘twas only an inkling as I did sigh,
with face raised upward, toward darkening skies
ideas kept away, those long times past
till light of day, revealed neath the mask...
Yes, it was only a thought, crossing through time
knowing not what, might I dare find
It was not flight of fancy to be stumbled upon
with humbled beginnings, it begs to come home...
Writing has become an obsession so strong, it can't be denied.
It haunts my every waking hour, and tiptoes through my dreams
Those flickering embers, turn into roaring flames of passion;
I am never alone anymore...
Jan 23, 2009 © Susan Cobb Beck
All Rights Reserved. No republication of this
material, in any form or medium, is permitted
without express permission of the author