Posthumous

Back where the skytide shatters its last
Against the shadow of the silver door
Back where the hornglows flutter beamingly
As Fire and Brimstone
Is where I'll wait
Until I can wait no more.

Back where Time lies grimy and broken
And Hope holds eternal power
Back where tree roots lift and walk
As a lone daisy chain
Is where I'll wait
Until the final hour.

Yes, in between the lines of the marmalade pots
Where the tepid beast is slumbering
Where delicate contours embroider your form
As gossamer is spun
Is where I'll wait
While the clock hands keep on lumbering.

But if we were to flee this flighty land
On toes of gold and lead
This world would crack and refuse to heal
As a waterlogged vine
Then You would vanish
And all rivers would run dead.

So sit back here in the Crableg Tree
And rest among the silken leaves.
Drink up your sleep for an hour or more
As nectar to the Sun
And I will wait
Among the laden sheaves.