Lianna Fox

Prince of Barkness

We've lost the way
In scenic gloamings.
Now we are roaming 
In the heart
Of marvellous
Primeval Forest.
Ominous Trees
Are a silent crowd.

We used to take
Amazing photos
Of flowers, mushrooms, birds...
A jest:
A mirage-lake 
With a phantom-lotus
Ensnared us to a darkness-nest.

You bark, my Friend,
But no one hears.
Predators hide in thickets. But
A restless torch
Dispels the fears
That tire my mind and boil the blood.

There is a bog,
A devil's quarters.
We are unbidden. But...who knows...
'Cause every log
Appears to slaughter.
Hope you're to cheat, a human nose.

My guiding Dog 
Feels spectres' dances,
Forgotten traces,
Mazes-roads
And cleans the fog
Of growing fusses.
We share one lot, a happy lot.

The way to meed 
Is damp and hollow.
A long-expected cut of tea
Inspires the bit of strength to follow
The light of hope, 
The warmth of lee.

 

All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Lianna Fox.
Published on e-Stories.org on 02/20/2015.

 

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