The Belle of Death’s Ball by Sue Lobo

Raja's Insight

She lived on the soft edge of reason, just this side of life,

When Angel of death knocked on her door & invited her in,

She said,” I´m ready to go to the ball, but first I must be clad,

I must be garbed & attired to suit this auspicious occasion”,

The Angel just nodded & smiled & said, “Just take your time,

I´ll wait here until you look utterly beautiful & superbly divine”,

So the old woman prayed to the God she´d always called friend,

“I ask you to help me one last time, help me to dress for the ball,

Paint my cold lips, with the golden beams of the ancient warm sun,

Daub my lined cheeks, with the rouge of dawn´s ruddy pink roses,

Shod my cool curled feet, within the forest´s ivy slippers of green,

Mantle me barely, in whispers of the moth´s gentle moon-breath,


View original post 248 more words

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s