a fawn

fragile, there, on little spindly legs

recessing in the dark and forest shadows

the target of the hunter and his aims

and trapped within her one domestic enclose


we see her, shyly, looking once again

for what it is she longs for and she needs

as slight as morning mist and dark as moonfall

she wears the shadows as

her widow’s weeds

Author: Beleaguered Servant

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

One thought on “a fawn”

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