listen closely
to the susurrus;
murmurings
of dolors,
of existents
lingering,
soughing
languidly,
immured
by their
temporality.
listen within
and you will
hear warmth in
the dread.
it emits evanescent
gloamings; enflamed.
young prince,
possessed by
unwavering will, and
in tender ardency he
softly scratches:
one, two, three, four,
a creak from the door,
a swift leap from beneath.
lithe amaranthine
with delicately
nimble, rosen
petal-paws,
carefully he
navigates the
swampy corpus;
he trespasses through
the inky labyrinthine;
he conquers the heavy,
mucilaginous air:
that drab,
silent still.
pursuing an
easy prey,
the doughty prince
closes in upon
a lone,
respirating hollow:
post-solitary shell
swathed tightly,
veiled lightly:
a dusken husk
cocooned beyond
funerary enshrouds.
demurely he
nudges the
blanketed shape
with his
dew-wet,
tea-rose nose.
thus he emanates
with resonant pride
a fervid thrum
echoing:
it gilds my blood;
it vitrifies my bones.
he nestles neatly,
buried beneath,
beneath layers
of old, woolen sheathes.
familiar comforts, i think
as he curls up close.
familiars never die, i dream;
and for a moment,
as i tightly grasp
the treasured
ephemera,
the familiar frame,
I believe.