Into a phantom sleep,
the icy dark blooms in phantasy
and it carried away to the sojourns of the past,
the mirage of a displaced winter;
In remembrance, each carved wind silences you,
piercing scattered sleep in the warmth
of the cedar tree's blood-fall from its leaves
teeming a light that hides from your eyes,
and you drift... You drift like the wind
fluttering into the river, into a gradual descent
of the desert mirage, the winter enslaved
as it stood.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

16 thoughts on “Mirage.”

  1. Tastes like one of your poems written in what I have called your “classical style” – a little gothic, a little fantasy, reaching into the heights of nature to grasp some vivid imagery that you then drape in a filmy veil of dreams. I really enjoy the seasonal tapestry you’ve woven here – very elegant.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Beautiful images. I loved “icy dark blooms in phantasy” and “the cedar tree’s blood-fall” especially. The repetition of “drift” also struck a chord with me as well!

    Liked by 4 people

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