scrounging
hounding...

The suspense that filled
me, when I would wait...

Hooked back in by a callous claw
to face a darkened war once more...

Contrastive clouds, carrying a myriad of
Elegiac moisture...

A scent that blossoms every Christmas time
brings thoughts of when we’d sit around the tree...

ALFRED!!!....
Right she's here...

I didn’t see it coming
as I stood in the path...

Memoirs of my manic mentality
scratches denial, deeply into my skin...

So....
Upon my return the shire...

A scuffle of hooves thundered up the path
t'was Sinderella from the Shire of Bath...

No artificial
colours or preservatives...

A violin are her vocals.
For her lips speak no words, nor lyrics heard...