The night was still and the wind chill
The stars in the dark sky were but a few
Crickets chirped and a distant owl hooted
Surrounded by this heavenly calm, she lay.

Her head, a mass of thick ebony curls
Her beautiful dark face, now pale
Roses for lips and almonds for eyes
In her pure beauty, she lay

Limbs more fragile than autumn branches
Skin as cold as the winter wind
Yet, like Spring daffodils, she beamed
And like a midsummer’s rose, she lay

Her lips curved like the mighty Atlantic
As quietly, she brought her arms to rest
Just above that motherly bosom
As, waiting patiently, she lay

The wind blew harder, but she stayed still
Eyelids drooping and the smile fading away
A deep sigh, and then cold air inhaled
As, slowly breathing her last, she lay.

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I think my Linguerites are the last to know about this but er, yours truly here is faced with a mini handicap. My beloved laptop stopped working a week ago and I’m going crazy already. My posts might be a bit far apart until I sort out the problem. I’ve tried keeping thoughts of it away by reading novels again. I’ve read four covers and I ‘ll tell you about that later. A few days ago, I’d just finished reading when I felt this strong urge to write something. I thought a poem would be nice and I needed a change from the very long posts I’ve been throwing your way. I hope you liked the result of that full-blown night of literary inspiration. Tell me what you think about it 🙂