Black Forest

From the unknown,
a nightmare
speaks in tongues,
a Babel of voices,
its own labyrinth.

Starved and sinister,
tantalizingly close
to feasting,
it can't picture Love.

Clueless,
in its stale path
of withered hopes
its taste of Life
goes bitter and sour.
 
 
In the Evening (Op. 12, No. 1) - Schumann
Sequencer Unknown
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Poetry&Image Copyright 1998-2000, by Maria Helena Rowell (07.09.99)