Claire de Lune It seemed like I had stumbled through the cold, unforgiving darkness for a lifetime more than I could bear, without so much as the moon to guide me on mypath. I hadnt a clear notion as to where it was exactly I need be, nor why I felt sodriven to find my way through the shadows, but I continued in blind tenacity forwhat I thought was my salvation, for the light at the end of the tunnel when therewas none from the start. The gnarled redwoods seemed to beckon me forth as Iwatched their bristling needles so high up and secluded from the troubles of allwho passed beneath, as if to sway to the motion of the world. It had been days,weeks
maybe months since I had left that wretched hole of a life. At first Icouldnt help but count my days of freedom, as if it were some kind of game, somekind of foolish little game. However, after a few days went slowly by I came to astartling realization, They aren
The Shadow BallDeathly Dark, not one soundechoes off the oaken ballroom walls.Then came the beat, so gentle a poundand an old jazz song began to fall,echoed from years long past.Soon the muffled taps of footsteps joined in,silken black shadows the moonlit windows cast,somber laughter from figures tall and thin.Wine bottles uncork, the clangor of glass,the ball continues 'till the break of dawn,day after day, yet their time will never pass.Although unseen they are never gone.Dipping and weaing, never tired,a life unfulfilled leaves much to be desired.
Roses for the PastRoses for the PastI remember the year just like any other,to think of that year would bring thoughts of my mother.And who could forget my dear sister Rose,with her five-toothed smile and silken red bows.As a child I knew nothing but warmth and light,Happiness was never too far out of sight.I remember the roses that my mother always kept,Shed said theyd keep us safe from harm all the while we slept.Roses were her life as the botanist of the town,it is said hers were the finest, the finest around.People would come from far and wide just for a single rose,they say if you look hard enough the rose almost glows.Nothing could have prepared me for what happened that year,or bottled up the oceans shed by heartache in a tear.There I stood that cold, dark night, in sorrows all my own,Never in my life had I ever felt so alone.Please dont go, said Rose somewhere in the black,Dont worry, sis. I wont be long, I quietly whispered