La Noche En Rondo

 

 

The door was never really closed

 

Nor was it ever wide open - in anyway,

 

Each angle and position merely held

 

 

A  juxtaposition;

 

A countering point

 

between the enlighten view

 

Of calm and contentment

 

 

And the confusion of darkness

 

 

Where fears scoped out the mind

 

 

While pain ate away at purpose

 

 

 

 

The ashen bedroom walls

 

Painted a watchtower’s isolation

 

Waiting a young prince

 

Runnings - round and round and round

 

 

At the night’s silence;

 

 

Evanescing into moonlight

 

 

And out the tower’s portals

 

 

With the flying lace curtains;

 

 

Waving standards of remorse

 

 

 

And conquest...