Dame of echoes,
How gently, she plays with the voices of the
dead,
How softly toying with words, all within the
head,
Sinister
her teardrops, dripping at midnight hour,
Insistent her tolling, of bell from old church
tower.
Dame of echoes,
Her voice in the echoing, of memories dead &
gone,
Her touch in shadows, where sunshine long once
shone,
Her breath, within cleavage of the mountains
in the sky,
Her words left unsaid, upon dead tongues of
lover´s sigh.
Dame of echoes,
I hear her footsteps, through life´s corridors
& long halls,
Upon past winds, she sings with orchestras of
dead balls,
Whisperings of childhood & dreams that should
have been,
Dancing through my head, & heard, rather
than be seen.
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