The Bell
Separation from thine splendor berates
me to the core, sleepless I walk in thought,
Backwards I look with mine forward gate,
yet remain where aged reason doth go naught.
O yes.Tis a bell that tolls most broken,
Tuned to harmonium unsung voices feign
dissonant words which wither unspoken,
then are caught in a snare of yesterday's swain.
I hath been half in love with easeful death,
Coaxed with wine and silver smoking depart,
I live still, though she hath stolen mine breath,
Tis the unspoken words that twas her art.
If ever a scar can heal with time,
Maybe once more the bell will chime.
Links https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/573tfc/sunday_morning_11_oclock/d8pbsw6
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/5734pr/come_back/d8pc0ek
Posted Oct 12, 2016, 9:19 PM UTC
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