The long winter halls

These long winter halls

Have faded in time

Have faded in rhyme

and reason untold

unbound by the shape

of the skeleton who sits

at the throne

by the foot

of the tall statue’s gold.

 

And the tall statue bold,

who stands above all

and stares sternly down at the skeleton thrall

once a king but not now

not a king anymore

his key unlocks nothing

but a small silver door

at the foot of the throne

between cold gold knees

as the skeleton’s jaws now

clack

in the breeze

that rolls through the halls

these cold mountain halls

these cold winter halls

these long winter halls

where the skeleton sits

on his throne, and in thrall

a king of nothing, no

of nothing

at all

but a pause and a shift and a creak in his jaw

from the wind

that blows

through this long

winter

hall.

—

 

 

©2013 Sam Oliver (Eris)

—

 

Here you go guys. Got another poem. Working on like five stories. Prolly’ll post one or two of them. When, you ask?? When they’re done!

Love,

Eris