On the winding stair
The whispers fly
Emboldened by shadows
That shift and separate
Dark and ominous
Conscious of emotion
That solemn fear
Etched on fair skin
This fractured feeling
As cold as death
Shivering through
Transparently thin
Yet full of fire
Flying up the stairs
In oranges and reds
An all-consuming flame
A contradiction of sorts
Waiting for morning
When the shadows disperse
And light creeps low
Illuminating our folly.
Sam
Sam's Online Journal 