Frigid Twilight

Charmed Chaos

In weathered sheaves of light 
before gnarled hands can rest 
silver strands flow through as 
painful memories come to mind

With each tarnished grey knot 
spiteful deeds and dead lovers cry
remorseful tears roll down a lined face
frozen in songs of frigid twilight 

Pale ghosts of the past haunt her  
tormenting her languid soul
whispering for final retribution
for all transgressions done

Written for The Sunday Muse #177

View original post