Fawn;

If you love the flower, don't pick it.

Sulfar infused air clouds his lungs.

Another camel, menthol.

Memory promulgates a smile across weary cheeks.

Ethereal she danced among the lost wood last spring.

Perfectly, following the rhythm of silent drums.

Cold, biting liquid permeates his maw.

Pabst, Blue Ribbon. 

Drowning time to pass endless summer days.

Hated routine would surely burgeon. 

Always trust in Murphey's Law.

Blind faith drove him,

insane, winter professed. 

But the Magic she manifested remained.

He forsook her that Sunday,

among vibrant trees, fairy-folk and demon kin.

She knew he was wise to part at dawn.

Like fall demands of leaves,

his sole offer was death.

These woods were her home,

and she was the Fawn.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think!

Reviews

[J. Land]

I like the imagery here. You add some excellent details in a compact, compelling way. I feel there's a stanza missing between the 2nd and 3rd stanzas. Adding something more to connect the Fawn and the man would heighten the impact of the final stanza.

[Patches]

Thank you kindly! I definitely see what you mean, now that you mention it. Maybe I'll write a revised edition!

[MAD ENGLISHMAN]

A deer little poem, excuse the pun.
Nice descriptive verse.

[SmittyJas]

Pulling me in was great fun she is quit the deer, nice leading into the forest scenery the word play was leading up to the chase I can picture the trees of the forest greens if you know what I mean.