DREAM

This Day rose grey, greyer than

the Spring that was

your spirit's Winter, sister.

Once, we were an assemblage

of Hope's declaration,

her own beaming bouquet

of blossom and melody,

delight and dawn, thriving amid

thwarted aspirations

and granite fumes branded souls

effused in an eternal

hecatomb to their gilded God.

Life prevailed, flourished, revelled,

in a sullied realm

Death had claimed, for we lived

our circle's Spring

as carefree cascades of colour

in the blackened brume,

impatient to glean every jewelled

hue of the Season's bounty.

Yet, a malevolent moment stole

our Sun, eclipsed the moon,

quenched the stars,

bidding the bleak air blight your

blood, stifle your flame.

Solitary feet tread a path that

once seemed evergreen,

strewn with shades and strands

of our Spring, spectres that

comfort one who will not submit

to the dark. A smoky veneer

stains the mourning garb that is

my second skin.

I now seek vernal tints in words,

sister. I shall return to sleep,

to dreams of Iris and Lark,

Rillet and Coral.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: DREAM

Source: commons.wikimedia.org

Artist: Joan Brull i Vinoyles