Shadows Fire

What shadows fly upon the night
And whisper wordless fear
They strike all peoples hearts with fright
And kill our ones so dear

Oh woe to you
My sweetest dove
On whom they have converged
Your glowing face
And gentle ways
Will yet be sung in dirge

The shadows creep along the night
While everything is still
But ere the morns sweet light has come
They shall receive their kill

A festering wound
And frost bite plague
Thy gentle subtle grace
For all will know that
Shadows fire
Does always leave its trace
Sunday, April 1, 2007
glen glens 01 April 2007
thats flowingly in rythm and ryme and that mystery of shadows fire. great poem, i love to tell that.
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