Waldo
02-23-2012, 03:41 AM
Night knelt, grey clouds: the knees that drank away the sky, dimmed the candle-moon glanced behind fog-screens passing by, to eyes below that looked; the mist fell in dew and on the grass-blade lawns brooked, small stars that sparkled there and in the wind shook—that is to say the night was young, the dew newly bayed, and sin ripened with songs still unsung.
Lightly felt, the watery sound, in quite wet, brushed his sleeve: damp spots spreading where his clothes and the dew-grass met. He lay there: watching the stars behind the puff of air, and smoke that rose rough from his lips: wisps tonguing dark Nix in wine-drunk sips, or so the words his mind gripped and left unsung.
Sightlessly melt, the world did, as he waited on the grass with wet sleeves and smoke that broke his tongue in leave, an ash sound on his lungs; waited for Rowan to walk to him as he lay and watched life fade—that is to say he fell asleep on the lawn as Rowan was yet to come and sing those songs left unsung.
Lightly felt, the watery sound, in quite wet, brushed his sleeve: damp spots spreading where his clothes and the dew-grass met. He lay there: watching the stars behind the puff of air, and smoke that rose rough from his lips: wisps tonguing dark Nix in wine-drunk sips, or so the words his mind gripped and left unsung.
Sightlessly melt, the world did, as he waited on the grass with wet sleeves and smoke that broke his tongue in leave, an ash sound on his lungs; waited for Rowan to walk to him as he lay and watched life fade—that is to say he fell asleep on the lawn as Rowan was yet to come and sing those songs left unsung.