playing games for centuries past

fling the tongs

grate

fast

temples flying above some trees

making flimsy music

tempting

pleas

dark tunnels going downward

solitary dark prisons

lonely

inward

faint rubbing of keys

marching moving shadows

walls

freeze

feather sapping up the sunshine

inkpot black

lines

moonshine

echoes flapping like leaves

unknown sirens

wail

the breeze

minds bending bleakly stung

minding the black

fallen

song

to look too late

a famished grin

singing

sin