Atop a tower on a heathen hill
A maudlin mistress from her windowsill
Was watering a garden's hungry maw,
And spying me, did not try to withdraw
Instead she read my withering facade
And called me hither from the sward of sod
I stood upon. My burnished cross held close,
I shuffled near to hear what she proposed
Beneath her lip out of the drizzling bleak,
Willing myself a taste of how she'd speak:
Yet as she threw that speech towards the ground
Some breach between our worlds obscured the sound,
I found myself counting the days I'd spent
Waiting for some phantasmal accident
And turning from my dreams with a disgust
I left her there alone to share her dust
With other souls who miss more than they must.
Topic: Yelling Obscured Things Out A Window
Date: August 23
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