Where the wild wood weaves
And the willow weeps
Where the deep dark dwells
And the savage sunlight sleeps
Where the serpents writhe
Around a blood-red spear
Where the wicked glance
Then turn away in fear
Where children’s happy sighs
Are swallowed in the night
Never really here
Just memory’s separate sight
Where my heart does plunge
In the empty space of dreams
Where vision fades from eyes
And air congeals with screams
Where ancient stone walls fall
Where poets finally cease
Cease.
By Scott Bailey © 2015
Originally posted at thehouseofbailey
Poet's Corner 