En Route

writing desk, flys none,
raven no scholar, nor
a bit alike, but aye, some runes,
capricious chicken scratches ply
a simile a'tween, and grand
adventure, this, bears solvent
peace grasped in understanding
so, what light through yonder window,
fair, and sweet as roses
dawn to dusk and ponder brings,
among all twists and gallows' way
how found this imp, tonight
beleaguered soul, or lay?

Anastasia's

She left, she turned
venom spoken, gone,
and rift existed then.
Crumpled bauble cast
beside, but snatched
before forgotten, taken!
Held, adored, and doted,
alabaster neck adorned.
Can blame appear, can
envy rear a verdant arm
upon her peace? The
warmth of arms, those beads,
they never looked
so good on me.

Shift

Daily walked, same
Way, this path, same
Footsteps follow, falter now
It's different today. So
Hazy, tremble as I
Go. Same way, as
Every day, but this,
This ache makes all
A new thing, sharp against
Background of loss, of
Used to have, of didn't
Stand tall enough, hold strong
Enough, for long enough.
Or wrong enough to never
Make this last, oh, wasted?
Never, brought upon such
Joy, this pain worth any, all
To feel, again, a stranger foe
My friend.