exercise in style 15 |
Day 15. Metaphorical
There was a night, as thick as two thieves
and a hapless soul way beyond his time and means.
Everywhere the winter’s revenge lay deep
and crisp and even, as he wended his weary way to her homely abode.
He was fatigued and he had had a little
tipple about an hour ago, it had gone right to his head.
No one was home.
So he drowned his sorrow.
He entertained ‘she loves me/she loves me
not’ with the bouquet of roses he had lovingly cradled up dale and down. They
dropped like crimson tears on the virgin white snow.
The good folk of the village could not
distinguish them from the ragged remains of the others that grew nearby that he
had savagely attacked in a final fit of madness.
He sang her name long into the night as
they led him away.
The table top heartfelt message would stay.
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