At The Edge OF The Sword

Night was the hostage, a tormented concubine

She lay waiting, for what she did not know.

Metaphors fill her head, she cannot express the portraits they paint.

Why did he leave her crying at the riverbank?

Will he ever return?

Duties  of each day kept the lovers away, was it meant to be like this?

Would ages ago reveal a promise, a kiss,  a gallant death of being?

She drifts, to a time of love professed in subtle messages, written across a tranquil sky.

Does this heart still beat in time, will the rain bring the shine again?

As she lay still, covered in night, prayers on the lips of tomorrow.

Meet me in a sacred place.

The sword came down, lashed across her soul;

Gasping for breath, for understanding.

Forever became far and away…

Blood flowed like penitence, she whispered to him

Had we taken the chance, left fear to the moors, we would be dancing under the stars.

If we had.

One thought on “At The Edge OF The Sword

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