The Eve Poem by John Lars Zwerenz
The Eve
Rating: ★3.0
When the brandy scented breeze
Sways your long tresses
As you smile in your chamber,
Arranging your dresses
A throng of gilded myrtle trees
Sheds gold, green and amber.
Yet in the eve when candles gleam
In the hallways of your castle's gloom
A dead man comes into your room
And makes your life a horrid dream.
John Lars Zwerenz
Saturday, July 27, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: horror
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8/2/2025 1:53:50 PM # 1.0.0
