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A Sonnet of Sable Tears
A Sonnet of Sable Tears
Behold the visage, pale as moonlit night,
From eyes doth flow a river dark as ink.
In sorrow's grip, the soul takes mournful flight,
And heart with woes doth heavy-laden sink.
What melancholy this, that bids her weep,
With tears of jet, like shadows cast by light?
Her silent cries the chasms of grief keep,
In liquid sorrow, mirrored in her sight.
O, wretched fate that paints her cheeks so stark,
In hues of night that from her visage stream.
Her beauty shrouded in the tearful dark,
A canvas where despair and hope doth dream.
Yet still, amid the ebony's embrace,
A fragile strength doth linger in her grace.
©poembyselly