Friday, 3 October 2014

Lethe's Dancer

Loneliness my abstract friend
never touches absent eyes
Where Cressida fuels ever fires
A flame I have come to tend
Flutters in  prison's ashen skies
An emerald dancer never tires

Haunting ballrooms of fancies dark
to unfurl here with a serpents grace
flashing corset of silken lace 
and evade wilt her halcyon hark 
a dancer spins to oppose the night
existence to her evermore a fight

As she spins she spins a smoke
helix spirals the deepest green
Within tired eyes a beginning 
they say madness is in the stoke 
leaking thoughts from the fire 
exulting whim and desire

And Lethe's reflections traced on glass
I look in to less maiden more force
escape the mind, the very source
so close but yet must be farce?
for clarity hides in snatches of thought 
 Green smoke resists being caught