should be d..e..c..
already where
an ember-ring
this side a tong,
a turned log
& an iron sound
as beckon can,
but such adjust
the shift of ash
o’erspread as
solstice wide
as snow-lands
that day, now,
cut nothing
that may grow,
when fallen are,
& who & who, as
one may know
as threnody,
comes a bee
ayaladn 
I like this. I used threnody once many many years ago. In fact it was the title of the poem now that I recall-wasn’t very good though as I remember. I’ll have to dig it out now. Good poem. KB
LikeLike
Also I, once before, KB, although not as title; no title anywhere.
Maybe there are things we should forget, but not now.
LikeLike
We never have the past to remember. It has all become fiction and changes with each telling, the only constant is pain–but scars are tougher skin and can’t be marred anymore. KB
LikeLike
I don’t agree.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on drndark.
LikeLike
Dr, You come ’round so often. What’s the prognosis?
LikeLike