Maid in Black

She walks alone, the twilight hours
when earth and sky are one,
between the headstones and the flowers,
hid from the dreaded sun.

Naught bestirs, no sound disturbs
nor yet a shadow falls,
before this maid, with soundless words,
her one true lover calls.

But he has fallen long ago
in bygone fields of war,
a hundred years she’s trod this path,
mayhap, a hundred more.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: United Kingdom (Scotland), GBR

Favorite Poets: Robert Burns, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Kipling., I like things childish.

Comments

Rula

9 years 2 months ago

Wow!

I like this though it's somber righr from the title, or maybe that's exactly why I like it.
I bet sir Wesley will like the little tale there.
Thank you for sharing Mr. Logan.

Keith Logan

9 years 2 months ago

I am generally a happy chappy

as reflected in my usual output but variety is the spice of life.

brittle light

9 years 2 months ago

so far, so good...It feels

so far, so good...It feels like the exposition to a longer piece. I would welcome more ...a tragic Edwardian love story. You seem to have an affinity for that era's style of language, as I hear it.

once again, another well crafted piece, a pleasure to read

regards,