Masquerade
When the setting sun glows with the red of the rose
Awakens the fire inside
In a dark masquerade as the orchestra fades
On the wings of the raven he rides
With a crisp serene adrift like a dream
tangled on the autumn breeze
like a twist in time tilled in silent rhyme
echoing down through the trees
Laced in wicked display with the passion to slay
weaving a warm tale to bind
a smile with the ray of a silvery blade
whispering deep in your mind
Like a dark serenade in a midnight charade
a velvety blanket of gold
shifting the shape of the shadows it makes
warming the depths of your soul
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If you look at this Link you can see it displayed better on my site.
I think I've used the word "whisper" in some form or another in about a million poems
and I havent even written that many yet!
oh well, huh?
glassvampire
