That Haunted Look

She turned to me with haunted look

Atop the spires of her pain,

I took her to my house and bed

And made it snow, and sleet, and rain

 

Her brown hair tumbled everywhere,

As she arched back in focus pure;

I thought I’d known that haunted look,

But never could

Be sure

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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