Blue Moon

My feet move softly across the floor
My hand out stretched toward the door
The knob turns with nary a sound
And a beam of moonlight graces the ground
A beam of moon light to guild my way
And in my thoughts to me I say
"'Tis not the fault of the killer, if mad perceived is he.
For at what fault held can a lunatic be?"
I approach the shadowed bed, my words embrace the sleeper's head,
"No, the fault is yours, for the driver has his peace,
No, 'tis not the wrong of the bearer to take the life on lease."
He stirs upon his slumber, though I know it was not I,
He seems to rest so peacefully I come to watch him by-and-by.
I sigh for now the time has come.
"And now it has been done" I say as I rid me of his blood,
"mad I'm thought, by those who see,
so therefor to them mad I'll be,

so thought the killer mad shall be."

© Emma Combes
Candlelight Symphony

Doors slamming
The words bite
A symphony
by candlelight
Losing grip
In the dark of night
we dance our dance
by candlelight
Always wanting
to make things right
we work the hardest
by candlelight
You shout so loudly
that in return I fight
and we make beautiful music
by candlelight
We twirl about
in a dance of flight
my hope is lost
by candlelight
Inside I drown
as our symphony peeks height
you're as alone as I
by candlelight

We dance our dance
by candlelight
Our symphony
by candlelight

© Emma Combes

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