At the edge of silence.

Entrusted to a tangled tame,

Suckled to a fairground game

Of floating through the forest quick,

Encrusted in a gemstone thick.
Answers though had wept to her,

Frequented with stuttered whir

Points that bend into dusty rest,

Tried again at her behest.
The flight of thought was surely caught,

In a manner that all had sought 

Until the day that she is finally alone,

A silence that no one can atone.

Categories: PoetryTags: , , , , , , ,

1 comment

  1. I love the way you put your words together – a sweet rhythm and you can turn a phrase so sharply with such vivid and thoughtful imagery – “Answers though had wept to her”, “Points that bend into dusty rest” are such beautiful lines to me in this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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