Untitled (so far)

The mists roll back from my brain

Like dust blown from a book.

I feel the wind still.

Ever do I dance in the rain.

I shall sing to fair maidens

And mayhap I shall lie in love tonight.

More likely the flame waits for me.

With chilling screams

And sulfur bursts.

Demons tempt me in my dreams.

The drowned court me.

I offer tea to the damned,

But all they want is water.

Beggars can't be choosers.

Patrick W. Crocker ©