The Great Frame of Love

Stillness evokes, the bitter strife,
Winter trees, tore off this life.
Lisette wore a mask, to conceal,
The terrors of love, to reveal.
She echoed a panic, of pain,
Within forests bleak, by shame.

I wandered, the terrible night,
Exploring Lisette, in bitter blight.
Some tune rung, from the trees,
Receiving, my crying pleas.
I questioned, “What dost God lack?
Behind the gale, or frozen black?”

Lisette, whom I sincerely praised,
With a cold distress, gently raised.
She, who rivaled, holy grounds,
Prepared to meet, above mounds.
Frozen brook near, tethered by fear,
I spoke once more, for Lisette’s lore.

She spoke, with winter as silence.
“Oh, pity you! Shall you enter.
Into kind domain, still withered,
Cometh colors of eyes weathered!”
Lisette, curves of fingers slender,
Gave forest night, its blackened light.

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