As daring as he seemed,
He wheeled when darkness beamed,
And cried when horror schemed,
He gulped for clearance,
Gasped for aired appearance.
Though, none were as tender,
As the warm, skeptical slender.
In the depths of night, his courage waned,
As shadows danced and fears remained.
His heart, once bold, now quivered and shook,
In the grip of dread, his spirit took.
With every step, he felt the weight,
Of unknown terrors, of uncertain fate.
Yet still, he pressed on, though trembling and weak,
Seeking solace in the silence bleak.
For in the quiet, amidst the gloom,
He sought refuge from impending doom.
But none could offer the comfort he sought,
Except for her, in skepticism wrought.
With her by his side, he found his way,
Through the darkest night, until break of day.
For her warmth and doubt, his anchor and guide,
In her arms, his fears subsided.
Though, none were as tender,
As the warm, skeptical slender.
May 2019
YOU ARE READING
The Aspect Of Oblivion
PoetryThe planted seeds of my wretched thoughts and emotions have bloomed their way out onto these pages, birthing a catastrophic garden; a virtue of beauty. A collection of emotions and thoughts documented in words, encompassing a voyage through the laby...
