Softly, they come
Shredding voices in the night
Like lightning in a neon sky
They resound the uncharted path with
Torches so eternally felt.
Beneath the dewy dawn
Wet with blood from last night’s demons
Lies the broken bones of an unmarked grave.
Atop a mound,
The doe dreams of thunder.
© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – December 20, 2013