A Valley Of Strife Poem by Rachel Hughes

I found a place where only night descends.

A place of superstitions so heavy the willows bend.

Shadows screen the tree line.

The stars are still there but they refuse to shine.

The oak tree stands still because the wind grew ill.

But the dead night still gives a wicked chill.

The distant moon gives barley a breath of light.

Just enough to shadow the night.

But not enough to give it life.

This is an empty place.

A valley of strife.

Dark silence to emptiness to be his wife.

now they our bound together for life.

And they will live forever in the valley of strife.