Nocturne

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Nocturne

In the moonlit woods,
where the evening primrose grows
on a leafy bank,
and the darkling mist lingers
in the trees,
she sits upon a phantom bench,
imprisoned by its bars,
and held by the glimpse
of a face she knew,
but long ago.

There in the mist,
was that an eye
above a cheekbone vague
below the spreading branch?
A memory,
a ghost perhaps,
he draws her ever back,
as his ephemeral spectre
drifts through the arms
of what might have been.

Though long dead,
her restless spirit
demands her courtly due
and love, at last, requited.


Line count: 24
Free verse
For Dark Dreamscapes Poetry Contest, Oktoberfest Week 4 Prompt #1
Prompt: As per illustration.