Asylum
Somber, snow-covered vales.
Windless calm.
Winter shadows sleep soundly on the frozen ground.
Snowbound.
I gaze out my frost-rimmed window at the blue, imprisoned pond. Dark, quiescent.
I linger overlong.
The low-slung moon hovers just over the horizon. Sly and slender.
The Great Deceiver, the Old Pretender.
Left-hand love. Old longings half remembered.
I know your face; misshapen, out of place.
Open hearts and open graves that merge in chilling interface.
I close my eyes, whispering softly behind empty palms.
“When bound from light and subtle touch, it seems the mind perceives too much”.
A mist-laden calm.
Now velvet wind, with light caress, is tapping at my door.
Floorboards creak like unseen feet are pacing on the floor
“No, no more”.
I stare wearily through the depths of my whiskey glass.
I chance to glance at slumbering coils of peg-hung hemp…
Soon to dance.
