Amber eyes, glowing softly,
Form and face of quiet frailty
Voice of once such golden timbre,
Worn away to just a whisper
...
The shape of words in Autumn is different from other seasons
Remarks are brittle and dry, turning to dust on the tongue
Deeply colourful in their death throes,
The skeletons of beautiful things picked clean by crows.
...
Fallen Beauty
Amber eyes, glowing softly,
Form and face of quiet frailty
Voice of once such golden timbre,
Worn away to just a whisper
Heaven cast you as an angel
Fallen, but still beautiful
Hands of pale fingers, slender,
Hold to dreams that will not linger
Gone too, wings of brightest light
That raised you high into the night,
Singed away by battles royal
Grounded, but still ethereal
Others may have turned their backs,
Or spurned you with their cold attacks
Hurt you in your weary weakness,
Scourged you with their spiteful bleakness
Made you feel so small and fearful
Broken, but still prideful
In this place you’ve found respite,
A chance to maybe set things right
Where earthly love is for your taking
Fields of promise, quietly waiting,
Waiting for a kindred soul
Fallow, yet still bountiful.