Crimson Crescendo

Too Long, the Hands Were Clenched

bw Frampton
What may begin
with a soft serenade can,
so quickly,
so quietly end
in betrayal
A victim of secrecy -
a dead man refusing
to still his breath -
A prisoner of guilt
in woman's skin -
following the trail of
emptiness and void
that years, so cruelly
have paved

The victim and the prisoner
Two paths -
three sets of footprints

The soft, sweet sound that was
the sonata of our love
shall become a crescendo of crimson...

Published by bw Frampton

I am a proud father of three children and husband of one in Small Town, Ohio. I enjoy lifting weights, reading, writing and observing people. I am now a full time student, majoring in Electrical Technology.  View profile

5 Comments

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  • cathiesbloggs2/27/2008

    So very much power in these words !!!!

  • Orchiolum2/27/2008

    There is much strength in these words.

  • Lisa Renee.2/26/2008

    This is wonderful...beautifully written.

  • Lisa Renee.2/26/2008

    This is awesome...beautifully written.

  • 3lilangels2/26/2008

    ooh i like this very intruguing indeed. great poem.

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