And when the darkness suffocates A weight that takes your breath away You scratch and claw to move it But the light is dim, Growing ever dimmer The stars are tiny pinpricks of hope That cause the night to bleed Hopefulness From hopelessness Towards a new day Which they never find Eleven hours of darkness In which she sat alone Looking for a near light Which she could call her own She hides her face From the wounded night Afraid it will avenge itself And devour her hidden smile To the east the black is tinted In a haze of sapphire blue Yet brighter than the vacuum That was taking her life away As indigo fades to purple And clearly time moves on In the waking hours of a new day She crawls where once she lay To find the hope To find a seed The sky is set on fire Eleven roses reach out their hands And circle in the morning calm "If only there were twelve, not less I know my true love speaks to me In ways that words cannot express I see the sunrise, where is he? Upon me night was pressing down To satisfy his evil needs If but my true love hold me bound I would not lie among these weeds" A voice said, “Why do you dismay? When I bequeath eleven true The honeybee toils night and day His honey, not as sweet as you" "The sun would shine in all its power And merely stand a smoldering ember My sun arose a different hour When you arrived, one bright September" "But would, “she said, “The perfect love Not love me to the fullest measure? And all my life lift me above Is not my love most precious treasure?" Why then, do I, eleven see Not twelve to show your love is true?" And in a bouquet blossomed she "My flower, “he said, “the twelfth is you"
December 19, 9:45 pm, Copyright ©1999 Michael Paul