Six Steps From The Mignon - with Adagio

In the staircase, six steps from the mignon    
the size of the filet is not the toothpick it's    
in the sauce that you sleep in Twilight's entree      
      
turning pages of stones in photographs    
as the winds turn the pages in silence    
with the souls of memories listening      
looking back over shadows in dreams    
of a Hardbound cover whispering    
with no time for sparrows. "The night    
has fallen, awaiting your fate"    
  
   
the chase starts with winged ease    
bound wings unfurled high over the countenance    
buoyed by needs and desire to cherish    
the wine intoxicating within the flowing veins    
to embrace to kiss long such bliss    
the unholy merge into one with the chaste    
      
they are covers from horror dreams    
their souls are whispered memories    
devoid of essence mere husk of what was    
grief never touches their reasons