Forgotten Tomb Of Charlotte

Forgotten Tomb Of Charlotte
© Surazeus
2017 10 30

Though dark mist shrouds my soul in lightless gloom
when I walk city streets in silent thought,
to contemplate the final dreamless doom
of dreaming creatures who decay through rot,
I stop before the house where I first saw
blue eyes and golden curls of sweet Charlotte,
then just as ravens on the phone line caw
I think I see her dancing in the mist,
just like when we once met in secret tryst.

I still savor the moment we first kissed
and strolled together in the apple grove,
amazed our beating hearts prove we exist,
and after she brewed cider on the stove
we traveled singing on the signless road
to her chapel in the sheltering cove,
and there I wrote her tale in secret code
so no one could reveal her ancient name
that hides my soul in glow of world-wide fame.

But while we laughed and played our private game
the specter of grim fear from field arose
and struck her through the heart with wrenching shame,
yet every spell she casts may yet expose
the shame of leaving those we love behind
so she retired to where the river flows
and now is naught but idol in my mind,
though more I wander more I stay at home
where I compose lost dreams in giant tome.

Beneath the emptiness of our dream dome
we chant the names and deeds of long-dead souls
who built weird maze of doors where the dead roam
and spark our placid brains with noble goals,
but all we build will crumble down to sand
and everyone who played their fateful roles
in tragicomedy that spoils our land
now form the garden soil where fruit trees bloom,
and we lie nameless in forgotten tomb.