Return To Song


The halls lie silent.
Song muted to insignificance,
Remnants of shattered beauty
Clinging thinly to walls

Gay banners now rampant with dust
Moisture lies heavy on silhouetted figures.
Sleep descends as moon arises;
Waxing, Moon glances through glass
And sighs.

Layers of parched paper rustle, still and dry
On the cold hearth; songs sung, notes noted, words gone.
Rooms lie soft in decay, and wait…….




About Marie

An eccentric & quirky artist and writer who fills her time between fantasy roleplaying sessions with painting, writing and playing her guitar (rather badly). Usually to be found with paint-stained fingers surrounded by books and tubes of acrylic paint.
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