A distant past of quixotic roundelay call to me
Beckoning with their tunable ballad
Overting to me the past gone by
Quothing in rebus as they swelt my heart
Their vileness of wickedness wreathes one’s soul
Like a Sylph rides on a thought in attempts to pother my mind..
With their puissant depth of knowledge they foretell
Their pertness is dangerous and coy
Cutaneous eruption of these ancient beings
The perusal they speak with pithy
Their Nobleness overweens one’s eyes
Like the blind walking into a guiding light
Mislead by an angel who has fell
Wearing the cloak of promise to hide their deceit
Entrapping my soul in their naught
Musty mutters they speak until I am no more
Escape seems like it has preterlapsed my grasp
Silent screams I can only cry now
This forceful violation of chastity they have cursed me
There is no where to flee anymore
Lisa Lynn ‘08
Christmas Blessings!
4 years ago
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