A bit of verse

Requiem

by Bob Freeman

The tapestries have faded.

Their vague depictions of past glories

Unraveled and worn.

Icy fingers of forgotten passions

That trace arcane shapes

Along the flesh of my arm...

Exposed, much like my soul.

The fire gives no warmth,

No solace from spirits drunk.

Anguish over words unspoke

In crypts forevermore closed.

Grief unhand me!

Must I be a slave to the pain

Of Death's shadowed cruelty?

The tomes are unopened...

Their spells left to rot.

The window, gaping wide,

Like the maw of a demon scorned.

The snow collects unrepentent

Till it melts away in mockery

Of my shrinking spirit.

Relinquish your stranglehold

Vile villian of night's discourse!

Unfetter me from your baggage

Of eldritch witchery.

Your words webbed with lies are

Esoteric and unwelcome.

I would be shriven,

Or dead,

Or both perhaps.

Let this cruel caress end

With a severed vein

And a toast to life's repose.