Edges (Terza Rima)

Soft echoes tremble, touching walls of night,
the single prints will tell she's come alone;
her gown- a kiss of green on season's white.

In moonbeam- tinctured snow she lifts a stone
to smell the comfort forest soil supplies,
she's silent- life drew edges words can't hone.

While molding stars to fit the tapered skies
she buries dying scents of past and yearns
for laughter's fragrance, rich as edelweiss.

When solitude enshrouds the trees, she learns
that even clustered paths are bound to split
and sudden folds in fate delay returns.

The pearls of malachite once strung in crowns
still match a smile each time the princess frowns.

by Chris W. Copyright © 2005-2008