And Carly sang
Hold me in your hands like a bunch of flowers
Freezing my heart in the hall of decades
Birthing only death at the end of life’s odyssey
Reaching
Reaching for the fading joy of youth’s memories
Long, dark, bright shadow-land
Mist shrouded corridors of years
Befoul all thoughts of freedom gained and lost
And knowledge gained through lonely years
Cold load of stone enwreathed in poisoned moss
Breaks the spirit of contemplation
Sweet singer from days of youth
Dear Carly
Harbinger of sorrow in the mouth of time
In joy of blood-wet spring your songs were birthed
Harmonies echo still
From gaping corpses wrapped tight
In chorus of the mime
Regis
Powerful imagery pulls this poem together so uniquely - great line -"Hold me in your hands like a bunch of flowers . . ."
Best regards,
Lance
I especially like the end, you have painted it with great precision and sensitivity.
Axilea
Sheila