HandmeDown

Another villanella.
It takes liberties--
both meter and form.
I say, "But heck!
What's poetic license for?"
The answer is: Effect.


To grieve a dream, just take the waking slow.
Look for a shelter within each storm.
Stare bravely down the long and lonesome road.

Release the dream and feel the letting go.
There's cold and fear in all that's mourned.
To grieve my dream, I'll take my waking slow.

It was well-lived with you, I know, I know.
Our days of play and days of loving, warm.
We shared kind comforts from the long and lonesome road.

Those days I hold within me like a fire's sweet glow.
Your hands of healing took my crown of thorns.
Relive our dream (for me?), and take your waking slow.

A promise made was broken, but freely Grace was shown.
The beast lies vanquished; the poet is reborn,
with hope upon his long and lonesome road.

My bags are packed, my blankets stowed.
Each altar broken, each cross is borne.
I've grieved our dream, I'm walking slow,
at home upon my long and lonesome road.