Poem – “Ebony Sun, Bones of Willow”

Ebony Sun, Bones of Willow

In her slumber
She carries the cradle of the sun
The weeping goblin atop the peaks
Laced in snow like the spider
Weaves a film across forgotten toys
His horizon bears the ghost of a smile
An ephemeral face rich as the soil
That mothered the gods’ orchard
Bones of willow tortured by the wind,
He waits and she never wakes
Believing he has lost her, simple goblin
Unravels his tattered body
And becomes an island on his mountain
Where flowers will never flourish

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
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