As if returning from a gothic dream, finding her...an image like...
As if she went wayward,
As if on her
Shoulder a dragon spit a fire...
As if she was walking a phantasm like,
As if she lost her lawful sight...
And then howled, screamed, scratched to pains
Found her losing sense
By God's providence,
There breaking the dark
A little ray of light fell
Upon her fingers straight
Which could deconstruct the spell...
And the blood there on her cheeks came,
O how she got
(note:- on a poem by a friend, Sue Lobo...and the painting , though attached to her poem, is not hers, it is of course by a prolific painter no doubt, regrettably, the name of the painter is not known to me,)