Joan (standard:poetry, 337 words)
Author: Michael H. Silverman	Added: Dec 03 2000	Views/Reads: 3992/2218	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Poor Joan... tears come flashing.

Joan. 

What dreams, pray tell me sir... 

What dreams within you stir? 

For in terror now I follow 

Dreams this night of bitter sorrow 

For my Joan, 

Joan who's heart is still as stone, 

Where in the bedroom all alone, 

She rests now as if sleeping 

And I've done a night of weeping 

For my Joan. 

But tell me sir, of greater dreams 

Of rainbowed valleys full of streams 

Where sunlight through each shadow gleams 

In hopeful beams, in brilliant beams 

To light the hills that wander 

Into every meadow yonder 

Where life is full and fonder 

Than what waits for me in dreams, 

For here I sit alone, 

In the flow of shadows in a hall 

In sorrow for my Joan 

While the night begins to crawl 

Across the patterns on this wall... 

These dark patterns on the wall 

Like the eyes of Joan 

Where in the bedroom all alone 

She rests now as if sleeping 

With her heart as still as stone, 

Her eyes now blank of wonder 

For a world she's briefly known, 

And all the matters of the heart 

Have fully flown, 

And no more embraces will impart 

From lovely Joan. 

No more kisses will impart 

From lovely Joan. 

Where's her spirit flown? 


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