The Lion's Den
I dream a misty blue
Around the crevices of my
Eyes.
Your candor does not exceed
Any relic the past offered me;
Nor does it bring comfort in
Times of duress.
All the winds blow against
My face.
I recall your lion's den
Surrounding me with stale
Air.
For there in your mystic
Eyes lurks a fierceness
I cannot explain.
Your aura is a dark purple.
No light can break through.
If only a song could turn
The page, and lead me
Back to myself.
Published in WINK: Writers in the Know, issue 1