Scribe eulogies for one who stands apart
before she’s gone; beneath her history lies
a golden soul. Sharp thoughts. A fiery heart.
Familiar voices in their circle rise
and fall again remembering her name.
A violin cries blood where now she lies,
rain beads her hand, her sword her only fame.
As thoughtless as a diamond with no flaw,
one tear, like rain, scores smoke along the flame;
her bier is raised. Beside her walks once more
the one she called her world. In everything,
I will look after him, I said, and swore
upon the song we never had to sing:
I will look after him until the spring.
(originally written for everwalker‘s 5 Phrases challenge on deviantArt)
poetryandtea 