Regrowth

By Aarron Mondello

26/1/2018

Heart beat racing with those first steps
Away down a lonely road
All is silent and watchful about
Can you hear your breath echo?

What phantoms of days long since past
Walk beside you here
What memories of long forgotten lives
Through the shadows peer

An open stretch of road to nowhere
Reclaimed by nature’s hand
On to an unseen horizon
For off in this unknown land

Where once the cancerous human walked
Bringing with it desolation
Now grows green with earthen heart
A slow paced restoration

©Aarron Mondello
26/1/2018

Image:

http://www.alamy.com/stock-photo-a-stretch-of-abandoned-a494-trunk-road-overgrown-and-and-being-reclaimed-55071697.html

Too Late

By Aarron Mondello

21/12/2017

It’s too late for the rain to fall
Down on a child’s tomb
Like tears wetting heavens floor
Soak into her earthen womb

It’s too late for the moon to light
The path for its nighttime kin
For here he sits in his room alone
Fresh cuts upon his skin

It’s too late for the sun to shine
Down on an old man’s face
Confused, scared and alone
He does not recall this place

It’s too late for the wind to blow
The hair of a sickly mother
One last time she closes her eyes
On this world and flies to another

But it’s not too late for those who are left
Behind to mend their hearts
For though the soul is now bereft
They remain forever in the hearts.

©Aarron Mondello2017

Featured image https://www.deviantart.com/art/Too-Little-Too-Late-106576553

Little Darklings

By Aarron Mondello

17/12/2017

“What is a Darkling?”
I hear you ask
Well it’s a little shadow-child
Wearing a little shadow-mask
Flitting running
Through the trees
Blending in
Barely seen
Tittering laughter
Follows behind
These little imp-wraiths
As they hide
From all who come
Near to them
For Darklings everything
Holds fear for them
“Are they evil?”
You enquire
No more evil
Than burning fire
They have a power
In their heart
A power some will
Seek to covert
“So they have magic?”
You seem confused
“They ARE magic”
I say, amused
Their very shifting
Shadow form
The essence from which
Magic is born
They have no use
Of their own
For the power set
Within their bones
A cup of water
Can’t drink itself
As the Darklings
Can cast no spells
“So they are good?”
How to explain
Would you put alignment
To a flame?
Neither nice
Or evil things
They just are
Little Darklings
“Are they real”
Your voice goes soft
Not any more
I scoffed
People hungered
For their power
And hunted them
To their final hour
Now no more
Do they flitter
Through the Shadows
Running thither
Their end was long
Brutal and violent
Their old homes
Now lay ever silent
Beautiful shadows
Always laughing
Their only downfall
Was being Darklings.

Featured image: A Rustle and a Murmur by moppaa

https://www.deviantart.com/art/A-Rustle-and-Murmur-442059115

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/silent/”>Silent</a>