For Millay
Timothy Dyson
​
Dark gray October dawn
leaves dripping
droplets of the gone
          countenance
Kindly ghost slowly
moving down
lanes of smeared
         forgiveness
Was she a princess
forsaken of fame
a castle with no name
         memory's moat
Some alleged glory
is now assigned
to the aging script
         no one wrote
Of her kindness
only love's blindness
could pen the truth
         her life evoked