Black Butterflies...

The Winter Trail has Ended...

 

 

I follow the Autumn leaves,

down the pale road...

and I see mirrors in the buildings,

by my side...

 

In some it shows,

not me...

not our now-daerk eyes,

no...

it shows faces,

millions of other faces...

strange grey beaches,

where black-haired creatures crawl...

where the ocean sings softly,

through the jetties...

where houses warped by time and salt,

hum with a thousand tiny bells...

Cruel lands where man, woman and child,

were caught in a waking dream...

and lost.

 

 

I turn from the mirrors,

travel on...

past empty rooms,

and lonely songs...

one tune I follow up an alleyway,

I glimpse a gramophone...

old and dusty,

and the wink of bright eyes...

hidden behind,

a hear the softest of mad drumbeats...

and the slinky movement of a figure,

there in the shadows...

the wicked grin of wolf teeth.

We flee from the alley...

and out onto the street,

We walk on...

we feel the hearts,

decaying in our chests...

and we wrap time closely about us,

and rest.

The morrow day...
we strap on our wings...
stand up in the cold dawn,
and draw our swords...
we grin our crooked smiles,
into the howling wind of sunrise...
raise our feathers wide,
and leap into the gold.

 

 

 

  Set free the Black Butterflies dearests...

 

Much Love,

   Always...

 

Miss CLScarlett xx