At The End Of All Else… What Remains? Poem by A.E.K.G Navrilith

* This is not the 1st version for, saddly, i lost that however it stuck with me and this is near enough.

She stands.
They look her up and down.
This strange creature of the night.
With a sparkle in her eye she glides,
Across the snow, crisp and white.
She makes not a sound, nor a track to be seen,
For her soul is as cold,
As a hard, heavy stone.
Ebony tresses fling loose and glossy,
Tumble o’er the smooth plains of her back.
Alabaster and waxen, skin clings to the bones,
Her pump dead lips whisper a name from long ago.
Her eyes are unseeing to that what’s around,
For she’s in her own world.
How she stands proud!
That single, silvery, diamond, ice tear,
Frozen in place astride her high, noble cheek,
No more than a memory of its once former glory,
No rosy adherement; modest blush,
She is but a wraith of what used to be,
The beauty with wisdom, who lived in a tree.
Driven mad over time,
From the haunting of mind,
She feels nought but numbness,
Sees nought but black,
Hears nought but silence,
Tastes, nor smells nothing, for she can’t recall…
The last time she kissed him – her heart forever more.