Too late

 

dVerse poem

In prickled night of starry widow's lace
an empty face,

eyes candle bright, body of shadow coat
awaits for throat,

so tender white and free from loving kiss
and nightly bliss.

And she of lemon soap and gentle frown
in bridal gown

dance cherry blossom free with steps of spring
that hope does bring.

Outside, the darkness sings a lullaby
for eyes to die

in slumber lily pure until a bite
cast out sunlight.

and now the blood of men awakes her shroud -
if he's endowed.

Dear reader, mock you this tale of night's fear
with righteous sneer

and one dark night your tearful friends will tell,
He did not yell