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Maid in Black

Submitted by Keith Logan on Wed, 2016-04-27 15:57

She walks alone, the twilight hours
when earth and sky are one,
between the headstones and the flowers,
hid from the dreaded sun.

Naught bestirs, no sound disturbs
nor yet a shadow falls,
before this maid, with soundless words,
her one true lover calls.

But he has fallen long ago
in bygone fields of war,
a hundred years she’s trod this path,
mayhap, a hundred more.

Editing stage:

Editing - rough draft

Comments

Rula

Thu, 2016-04-28 09:10

Wow!

I like this though it's somber righr from the title, or maybe that's exactly why I like it.
I bet sir Wesley will like the little tale there.
Thank you for sharing Mr. Logan.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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Keith Logan

Fri, 2016-04-29 12:43

I am generally a happy chappy

as reflected in my usual output but variety is the spice of life.

Keith Logan
the happy chappy
https://www.neopoet.com/community-guidelines

author comment

brittle light

Thu, 2016-04-28 16:10

so far, so good...It feels

so far, so good...It feels like the exposition to a longer piece. I would welcome more ...a tragic Edwardian love story. You seem to have an affinity for that era's style of language, as I hear it.

once again, another well crafted piece, a pleasure to read

regards,

Keith Logan

Fri, 2016-04-29 12:46