In Appreciation of Edgar Allan Poe

In dark and silent reaches of the night

when embers of the day have burned to ash,

sad spirits rise.

 

Faint whispers of those times that long are gone

and echoes of the person I once was,

eidolon sighs.

 

Unbidden, ghostly vapors of the soul,

bleak memories that force hot tears to flow

from sapphire eyes.

 

Must I relive anew the distant past,

recall events I thought were buried deep,

and hurtful lies?

 

In melancholy solitude I sit

and wait for sullen shades to slowly fade

and softly die.

 

Peace.