Charleigh Huston Dec 2015
‘Twas my spring of youth in that lot
That now haunts my mind by that spot
Of which I could not love less –
Of the lake’s Serenity gown,
With nature circled ’round.
But when Death hath reached its grasp
Upon Serenity’s water – poured into his flask,
The sadistic sagacious wind went by
Murmuring the funeral cry –
Then – I finally awake –
To the terrors of Serenity Lake.
Yet I persist that it was not fright!
Simply Death’s delight –
Fueled by the Void of Sorrow,
Pierced by Serenity’s arrow –
No! – This Love I must define!
The trip to the lake, of thee and thine.
O! – Death’s grasp laid in that voracious wave,
Enticing Serenity to be my eternal grave,
Upon that very fatal spot –
Where the two children rot.
For no soul shall ever make,
A Heaven out of Serenity Lake.