Pane

Pane

I find myself walking about
The labyrinth of this old house.
As the memories flicker in each little room,
Two lovers happily espoused.

I amble through with a drink in my hand,
Collecting the past in my mind.
Pushing myself to make sense of my days,
Hanging on the good I can find.

The halls now haunted with the sound of my gait
Of a ghost trapped somewhere between.
My spirit in search for the portal of escape,
To the place for years it hasn’t seen.

Your presence, like smoke, is stirred by my breeze
As I move about these walls.
Intense, the love we shared in this space,
Lay now resting under a pall.

Trepid steps take me through your passage of angst.
Its arch rekindles my fear.
Of a hopeless surrender met deep in the hole,
The darkness shackling you here.

The space though small, feels a burdensome weight,
And impresses a spirit so dark.
No apparent escape from its hold on the mind,
A captor grossly stark.

This corner of dread, somehow compelled,
Fell you victim to its web.
Your spirit entangled and needing the light
Yet drawn but inward instead.

O, demon of night, release from your chains,
This frail, small moment of life.
A heart so pure can hardly endure,
Your world of rent and strife.

Look up, my dear, from the corner of night,
To the portal overlooking sublime.
With a rounded frame to hold the pane,
Ribboned glass cut perfect and fine.

Yea, through the pane, the light of day
Shines bright on eyes that see.
I’m here, my love, come, take my hand,
And walk the road with me.

Levi Hill — Copright 2002

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