I sit alone, her presence draws near,
Autumn twilight bequeaths a complex hypnosis,
Drawing me to bewildering night,
She's seeking death that dwindles near,
Her icy breath, speaks of fear.

Gaze upon her serene lust, 
The restless spread deathblow, they must,
She demands an omen to omit trust,
As I walk to splendor, perhaps unseen debacle,
My heart withers as her tomb is here.

Beliverence is lost as is time,
She presents irony so divine,
Her face speaks of peace,
but her lithe cunning deprives us, 
And her heart set in stone.

© Copyright of Danielle Lewis