The bells ring with a dampened knell,

A mellow tell.

My Love has died,

But like a seed I bury it.

And without a care from me,

These rains may bring a sprout.

Something new,

Someone who will beanstalk me

Out of my doldrums.

I’m climbing you in my dreams,

Scaling up the daunting vault.

I’ve just seen your golden goose.

Striving purposefully, so intrigued,

Pushing on, I hear the hum,

“Fee fi fo fummm,”

An eager beaver trying to play coy.

To date, the seeds have yet to sprout,

But in my mind, what games we play,

And who’s to say, that imagination isn’t real.

These things I feel as I clamber your specter here in my heart,

I start to see, in spite of myself,

How deeply invested I’ve become in these magic seeds,

And how sweetly even dampened bells do ring.

-jenn