In the drifting, moon-bathed thought
That stirs her from her dreams
Is a gear that spins and has her caught
In a river with many streams.
In a mist that forms in slumber tides
Is a figure that cradles the face
Of every thing she coyly hides
In lines she cannot trace.
The empire built, she was set free
In longing that goes unknown.
In love as deep as a boundless sea,
She walks her path alone.
Her eyes were made of lucid clouds
That washed across chromatic spheres,
That sought the truth that want enshrouds
As they sifted through her lonely years.
And who would see the question there?
Who would seek to understand?
The stars that weave within her hair
Were reaching strand to strand
To learn how a heart could be half-craved
Then cornered like a precious stone,
To be another venom braved
As she walked her path alone.
A pressure felt across her chest
Awoke her from her lover’s snare
As it pounded loudly in her breast
To remind her it was there.
It spilled in a thousand empty words
That crossed the lips of negligence,
And it flew upon the wings of birds
That have not ceased their flying hence.
So, she waved her fingers across the sand
To clear a spiteful story grown
From comfort that held another hand
While she walked her astral path alone.
love, desire, heartbreak, loneliness, ache, sadness, rhyme, quatrain, quatrains, poem