short poem

Under God's eyes they were bound as one,
Bell and Beaupré,
his beloved Dorothie,
a shining light in his heart.

So inspired by love was he
that he made her a window,
sunlight illuminating the stained glass,
colours dancing across stone halls.

The window, a display of their love,
their names joined in eternal embrace,
a love as fierce
as the fever that took him.

Hissing, sighing through the leaves.
Dripping, drumming on the rusty tin roof.
The bruised sky envelopes and subdues,
Chilled to the bone. I stand alone.
Echo of laughter, echo of pain.
Ah, the old ghost returns once again.