Night's Dread Pall
Disclaimer: Story title taken from John Keats' "Draught of Sunshine."
Prompt: 100-250 word poem.
October 31st, Remus Lupin.
Alone, this day, covered in night's dread pall,
He lies awake, all lingering mists of slumber chased away,
And watches as the tides of agony overflow and fall,
And carry unto the horizons the essence of his life.
There is none left, nor none at all,
No friendly face, no comforting heart
To lend a willing hand, a stepping stone,
None to ease this burden, world-weary and dim,
None to love, none to seek so insignificant a man as him,
And in the quickly sinking sands there lies,
Faded, treasured memories.
In one fell swoop, this life is lost,
He lives, yet dies, trapped in a prison-house of pain,
All gone, or thus he dreams, for two are slain,
A third, traitor to his kin and blood,
The fourth nobly sacrificed,
And he, left alone to mourn and brood.
And as the night's veil comes gently down,
Tears of blood weave him a ceremonial gown,
He sits, and dreams, and contemplates,
While far away, the rest of the world celebrates.
