Her little feet scuffled through the great marble halls
The touch of the cold stone underneath her
A slight breeze sprang forth from her thought
Wondering where she was

No longer will I see the beauty, your petals wither my love
Your tears are frozen

She heard the low whispers again
Their meaning fought bitterly with her ignorance
But could not avail
She kept on wandering through the marble halls
The candle-lit rooms growing more dim
The air getting colder

Woeful...
My tears try to warm your frozen lips
My hand caresses your frozen hips
When did your eyes become lifeless...

The whispers had become a deep brass sound
Echoing through her mind
She wondered, had she ever dreamt something like this before
What would it be like, falling asleep and knowing...

I...
Am not strong, your smile has left me
Your soul has become cold

His voice steadily became a song
Breaking her nerves, tearing the roots of her mind
His voice filled with woe

She remembered, kissing her mother goodnight
And falling asleep against the soft comfort of her teddybear
She had been so proud when she blew all the candles out
Nine...
One for each winter she had lived

But now she dreamt, walking through those marble halls

As your black gown enbalmes you in grief
I adore you still
My tears will miss you, my love does still

His requiem became more lifeless
As her cold feet struggled to keep on walking
She could not cry, though his song was woeful

Once before had she heard his voice

Your skin is pale, just like her dreams...

He had told her kind words
Comforting her in her dreams

His voice held no comfort now

Your pearl white eyes stare lifeless
Centered, a frozen forest of green

She had walked a long time
But stopped
Her feet turned her around
And she saw her
Laying on a stone altar
Lifeless

No words came from her lover
But he still sang, only in tunes
Translating all his sorrow for him

Her white gown had become black
As she entered the room of mourning
His green eyes were broken as he looked at her
The shards filling her with confusion

She felt death, an icy arm cold as snow
She felt love, a warm branch of the white tree in their garden
Never would she see it again
And she knew

His eyes filled her with understanding
As he picked up the lifeless body from the stone altar
The little girl whispered

Mother, we will be one again

As she touched the woman with hair gold as the sun
A white light entered the room, and mourning departed
Grief pointed toward the white hall
And they left

She had stayed with her during the night
Occaisionally stroking her hand through her hair
Her screams in the night echoed in her mind
She wonderd what her little girl was dreaming about
She had been so proud of her when she blew all the candles out
Nine...
One for each winter she had lived

Her little fingers gripped the teddybear tighter
And her mouth opened

Mother we will be one again

The smile that came to her little mouth vanished
And her mother cried
Knowing nine winters were all she would ever see...


By Willem Maessen, July 2004