Romance of Thorns

Image by SvetlanaKv from Pixabay

Noble violin, take me on your strings

and gallop beyond the wind

of the tall grass and wheat fields.

In mornings like these,

your tears are honey drops

from the eaves of heartache.

Noble violin,

dance with me the waltz of sadness.

In shadows like these,

your manuscript bittersweet

announces the funeral of vision dazzled.

Take me home,

where the Castle of Night holds the crown of soul.

Take me home,

where I know I’m the silence between my thoughts.