Nostalgia Grows

Gazing at what could have been

a lethal doze of her fertile pose

what will all these inklings mean

if I reveal how deep the spiral go

Crystal fecund fancies flew

emerged through blood-red veils

sky-blue yet dead grey - the winds blew

Forced my lofty head to lean

is this lass a fevered rose?

is she not sinless and pristine?

is it not always gold what glows?

She hides her hideousness in evergreens

but be cautious her blade is keen

when held down by an angel pose

her talons can't be foreseen

When the nightmare initiates from a rose

and this hale nostalgia grows...