P R E L U D E

-Stradivari-

:i:

The spiders came, the spiders spun their webs.

Their silver lattices forever shed.

They know not save the shadows in their beds,

Their truth and light of soul had long since fled.

:i:

They fled for they could hear no music bowed,

A shell that even echoes once no more,

A song which should have never been unfold,

Yet sung, though without lover to sing for.

:i:

She holds the wine that's amber in her hands,

More tasteful shade than tears she'd ever weep.

And as she drowns she pours blood to the sands,

The scarlet drops to which the ocean keeps.

:i:

For with the masks of hundred colours spin,

None show the colours that are held within.

:i:

Author's Note: This is for Alde, and from Alde, by which the spark came- while reading a poem she posted on LJ. That's how bad I am. -- An Shakespearean sonnet, with the rhyme a bit dodgy in the first stanza. Sorry about that. Otherwise, this can either be Angeline (which I favour) or Minerva. Or anyone you like. Inspired partly from Rachmaninov Prelude. The Rach Prelude. CC much appreciated.

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