Author: Velma Brown


The dark night snared like cobwebs in her hair
With phantom fingers,difficult to free;
It bent her will with gentle savoir-faire,
towards a subtle dream's identity.
Night honed her ears to catch a softened tread,
unveiled her eyes to see a shadowed face;
it taught her heart to rule her haughty head,
and helped to raise her arms in love's embrace.
Night turned its moon upon their rendezvous,
to clothe them in a pale deceptive pall;
there in its silver light perception flew
on wings of passing time, beyond recall.
Dawn seared her eyes awake with callous beams-
and burned to ash the vestige of her dreams.


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