The lady is waiting for truth to be found
As all her sentiments stumble around
Like a little tin soldier beats his little tin drum, Her heart palpitates to the heat from his sun
Sometimes she lights her birthday cake
And she waits…and she waits, for pity’s sake
Sometimes she throws homemade bread in the lake
The swans turn their grace in disgust with distaste
His halo diminishes her glow
She hides inside the lullabies of shadows
She blows out his aura quenching her wishes
All she needs is the connoisseur of kisses
And this delicacy is absorbed by the warmth
Of the charm of the gentleman breathing his scorn
He is the dragon extinguishing candles
Smouldering the lust she cannot handle
And the birthday cake falls to the floor
In slow motion, flames and all
Her heart simmers sadly as her room’s aglow
He comes sadly in nightly sorrow
The gentleman’s halo
Alights the cake
That the lady patiently waits for
In these cold winter days
She fears the storm
Of the flagellant man of eternal scorn
The flames rise
As the embers simmer
and her breath is left
breathless
No more
As she treads on the cake
And out the door
Into the moors
Of tomorrow
And she wonders
“Will he follow?”
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