Warrior looks in
through my eyes
– -child wanting candy.
Curiously,
peers inward
through a delicate green lace
perhaps seeking the place
my soul lingers- –
seeking his manifest destiny
or some quandary to debate.
Not seeing me for me
behind this face
– -still- -cold
braced and fevered
in this darkened place.

My castle walls
I embrace- -a blanket
of cerulean blue- -tattered.
– -Web like
gray fibers fray
along the edges,
from time’s time
with time folding backward
on itself.

Deep inside me he roams
empty chambers- -pulling
at flitting shadows
– -all the specters
                                 I am.
Oh, if he could set them free
they long for light
of dreams and fancy flight
– -silent butterflies.  Yet
– -still- -specters cling to me
lover’s whispers,
they sigh
and I sedate them
with a cerulean blue blanket
and the inward touch
of a Celtic Warrior’s hands.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

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