In twilight’s veil where shadows weave their art, A solitary figure dwells in grace, Her wisdom cloaked, a gentle, mystic heart, A sacred power shields her secret place.
A watcher peers through ancient glass unseen, Their history is whispered by the night, A bond once forged, now tempered by a sheen, Of sorrow’s fog, obscured from simple sight.
He dreams of change, a heart beyond his reach, An enigma of love and darkened power, His plans unfurl like whispers on the breach, But truth’s intent remains a hidden flower.
A prophecy within the stars is spun, Two fates entwined, their story just begun.
About the Creator
Our Song
Evening has given way to night. Gently, I settle next to you on the comfortable, old love seat and reach for your hand. You snatch it away, again. It cuts me to the quick, but I hide the pain, understanding that the reaction is but part of your demented state. Since the accident, your presence here in our cozy home has been clouded by a haze I can't see. Nevertheless, I feel the frigidity of your expressions and it serves as an excruciating reminder of the immeasurable distance between us.
By Dana Crandell3 days ago in Fiction
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