My heart is lost, I lost it to
Madame de la lumiére lune,
She stole it ‘neath of yonder Yew,
My heart is lost, I lost it to
The Lady and to bone and thew
I pray that She returns here soon,
My heart is lost, I lost it to
Madame de la lumiére lune.
About the Creator
Coeurdelion
Amateur scribbler of words.
A little Form Poetry, a little Prosody, a smattering of freeverse, a whole mountain of emotion.
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The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
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