a masquerade mask lays lone on the ground
under the cedar, among the posy of primroses.
the scent of venetian summer lingered unbound.
the masquerade mask still lone on the ground.
yet footprints surround, for the late night driver left the mask wound.
sands of the dark ages carry the weight as the mask decomposes.
the weight of regrets in a forgotten room,
the mask adorns their face for they believe it shall never be exhumed.
the masquerade mask lays lone beneath the ground
under the cedar, amond the posy of primroses.




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