Corin

In my mind's eye, I do not shed a tear for the meek The meek so trite Enveloped by spite Lapping up mouthfuls of melancholy Food for the souls of the misbegotten and bleak In my mind's eye, I see crimson blue Sunshine dancing on a marble scaffold Swish to a sway, too swift to hold Wistful thinking of a pair of romantics More a dream, than anything true In my mind's eye, I see etchings of the past Badge of the wise For some a blessing, yet others a mere guise Tracing a tender cheek of one of the untouched Skin may crinkle but knowledge will always last In my mind's eye, I see billows of steam Pulling roughly to a moan A slight gasp, to a tempered groan Scarlet lingers in between lace and fine linen Longing flowing rapidly, settling into a peaceful stream In my mind's eye, I see books piled up, forming a long stack Each heave of breath to take Cold wind does a spirit make Cackling resonates from the distance By an Aspen Tree I sit, as everything fades to black