The Faire

He moved so sweetly, his feet made no din.

She was dressed in black leather,

jacket, pants, heavy boots, she

strode out into the night.

 

“Don’t talk of love.  I’ve heard the word before.”

 

Seasons came and went, too many.

Her leathers melted and became hard,

brittle, almost fragile.  Almost.

 

“Nights, winter, years.  Pain, sorrow, tears.”

 

She hung her head and drowned

her soul in a vat of blackest ale.

She lived inside a hint of existence.

 

“Never be, never see - won’t see what might have been.”

 

She laid her flesh, down,

In the moist, dark earth,

Closed her eyes and died.

 

“Frozen, unto myself.”

 

That’s when it started to rain.

White, glistening, soft, warm rain.

She gave herself to him.

 

“Let it flow.”

 

Her leathers, like dust, blew away

Her skin, cradled in his gentle light

Thawed.

 

“Love, reign o'er me.”