Another Word For…

There was a shade

Where seraphs wait

Against the backdrops

Of all the junctions that came

And left between the cracks,

Stop the story for life weighed,

There are no lines of state,

No fogged mirror, nor spinning tops,

That took away her pain,

Just undetected embryonic acts,

The virtuous murmured dirge,

Transient and naissance,

To form despondency in absence

Where love and will diverge.


Poem © Phen Weston 2015


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