Home: Poetry: Ivy McKnight: Fantasies
She was not looking at me anymore,
staring out into space like that,
and I knew wherever she was,
I would never know her there.
She was quite small in the shadow,
of what she used to be,
and maybe I understood a bit,
why she wished to leave me here,
because I wasn’t something,
And the wind was washing away,
what used to make her talk to me,
she’s talking to herself now,
her lips are parted so that when I,
maybe I will look inside her,
and maybe I will see what is wrong.
Her mouth is open wider now,
and maybe she wants me to see,
so when I peer inside,
when I see what she wanted me to,
when I see the blackness of night,
and death,
I seem to think I understand,
and now I know where I am again.

All copyrights are acknowledged and those remain the property of the owners. Also these pages contain my opinions (unless otherwise specified), and thus, does not reflect the beliefs of others. The Garden of the Black Rose and its related pages are copyrighted (c)1998 by Ivy McKnight .