Dandelions

A portrait

A portrait of a fair maiden singing

Whom donned a butter coloured sweet swing dress

With hair not unlike the soul of Azreal

A straw made fedora placed upon her head

A fedora drowned in marigolds

An emblem of life and death

But I gazed at a cherub like face

Where there lies no deceit and no hate

Till I was distracted by the groaning of the manors ancient rustic gate

The wind battling against it

Howling for its strain

No longer visible were any sun rays

The day long dead

The midnight moon stood proud in the darkness amongst clouds

Once again my mind distracted

By the emergence of familiar marigold covered hat

It was then I heard the sirens call

And each and every object present  bathed in a strange light

Fear and curiosity struck as I gazed

Eyes glossy in a strange haze

Before a appendage around my throat became

A delicate hand had aimed

And then gone as it had came ; silently

So had the hat marigold hat

I turned in a neurotic anticipation

To the the figure of what would have been my killer

But no one was there

SMASH

The window in millions shards

No one but me bellow heard not even the night guard

I was  certainly distracted in a distraught kind of way

The the return of the hand slammed around my windpipe

And it was then I saw a strand

A ghostly strand of the marigold maidens hair

By then it was to late

My soul seems to leaves me

As my vision drains away

And the last thing I smelt was the stench of rotting marigolds

As clear as day