For Scythe, My Beloved (Ode to Poe)

Ravens dine under corvine skies
On carrion wed with blood red wine,
A bouquet of hellebores fresh from the vine,
A ghostly figure weeps my monody fine,
My melancholy melody for my beloved Scythe.

Tortured violins wail at the walls of Her tomb,
Enraptured mourners flail the scent-thickened gloom.
Encased in the darkest deep vault of a room,
My departed Scythe sleeps under whisperless moons...
(Only my grief stricken whispers of doom)

Clouds join me in grieving and begin their downpour,
The deluge of Nature’s tears howl as they fall.
I stare at my beloved’s black funeral pall,
And know I will kiss Her reddened lips no more.
She’s in the arms of Morpheus forevermore.

Atropos was too eager to cut Her gold thread.
Nebuchadnezzars of tears stain my eyes mourning-red.
I am haunted by the death-rattled words that She said;
If in the morning, My soul should have fled,
I want you to know that I loved you to Death...