The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
Sepia strains at restraints delivered by dusk,
writhing beneath a slow heft of tides
as light fades into a distant dream,
remembered hues of contentment unsheathed
under a paled moon's fragrant whisper.
Familiarity stirs a contemptuous soup,
its bitter ingredients simmer
only a frail reminiscence of solace
once known as feast.
Stained glass wings shattered
by casual strokes of sunlight
leave shards of color behind in their sad wake,
decadent, decaying russet shades
become a mere cleft within burnished soil.
Bored hands drift in somber waves,
their melancholy, grainy gestures of nonchalance
unweaving a tapestry of aching jazz as notes waft, forlorn,
beneath a fierce canopy of night.