Mark Crane

Violently torn from a rare, blissful dream
By the sound of my name swathed inside a stentorian scream

Shivering against a sudden chill; the room dense with a effluvium stench
...

Spawned within decaying carcasses of dying flies
Feasting upon the fetid flesh of the obstinate
Lubricious, slithering, sly force ever obdurate
Devouring innocence with poignant, pernicious lies
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Weary wonderer hobbling down life's cobbled path
Bruised and torn; ambling toward the aftermath
His once shining smile now yellowed and broken
Hopelessly lost; skin scared from life's brutal token
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Morning blessed us with your tender grace
A white winter rose in bloom, with an angels face

In an instant, we fell hopelessly in love
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Illuminated goddess of the radiant night
Bathe me gently in your soothing dim light
Brighten the dark; erode the vile spawn
Dazzlingly resplendent against the morrows dawn
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There has been but one constant fixture
In a world tumultuous and forever changing
Happiness amid sadness, with wars raging
A mothers love! life's only true elixir
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I adore the sweet fragrants, of freshly fallen rain
Mother natures remedy for cleansing away the pain

The bright sun piercing through the blackend cloud
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By the golden hue of dying candle light
Tear sodden pages, stiffle the feathered quill

A desperate yearning to share it all, her passions, her plight
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Drifting into the darkness of slumber...

Ah, i hear her now in whispers soft as moonbeams
Carried forth, on the delicate wings of my dreams
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Slender figure draped dourly in sable
perched in awkwardness

Casting forth triste laden crystals to the ebb
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Meandering through the realm of Morpheus; bissfully lost
Ahead lay vast fields of cinnamon scented sunflowers
Standing juxtaposed facing an almond colored, afternoon sky
Familiar figure comfortably crouched at the foot of an odd shaped knoll
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Camouflaged by an age old willow, he wept
Sun scorched tears, stained the squirming ground
Countless, concealed eyes watching without sound
Nestled amoungst wilted saddeness, he slept
...