Death's Curtain

    by AaronBradford, Aug 3, 2008, 9:27:19 PM
    Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Outside a gale blows,
Rattling the wooden windows.
The curtains hanging limp,
Watching, waiting.

A crack appears,
A crack in the long, hard years,
A crack in the time that the window has stood;
Stood against the wind and rain,
Against the morning frost,
Against the searing summer,
Against the pain and loss.

Up it stretches, ever growing.
Up it reaches, never slowing.

Knowing that this is the end,
The gale outside is blowing.

The seeping crack halts.

A precious moment it stands poised,
A precious moment, not a noise.

The crack glows like a web in the morning dew,
A pleasingly seductive view,
Dripping with the light of the morning frost,
Until it is broken and lost.

The sharp shards are flying,
The curtains, ripped, torn and crying,
Flung and thrown with a piercing moan,
They’re on the floor, lying, dying.