The Innocent

Though I speak with the tongue of beast and angel,
sovereign and saint, they are but foul words cast
upon the hot wind of my breath.

Once crested upon soft folds of flesh was wisdom's
fancy and royals kiss.

Only now dancing in circles silence am I, spreading forth
lies and hopeful magic as telling tales of dragons and
demon, man and mystic the given fears of child grow.

The realms of world to world waste away as foot by step
the listeners and believers true are torn away from flesh.
Pulled down from pedestal thrones and strapped to the
coat tales of darkness is the ear of curiosity and the
souls' fate among the dead.

Christine Smalldone has been writing poetry for over five years and has had her work published in mainly scifi and fantasy magazines. She most recently has and will be published in the anthologies: "The Falling Rain", "Nature's Echo", and "Poets Elite".

Find more by Christine Smalldone in the Author Index.

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