Handkerchief to the Wind
This Lady's loss 'tis greater than
the weight upon her heart.
She rests in layers of memories,
tear-stained, saturated with misunderstandings,
harbored by the depths of Thee.
Once, this handkerchief was scented
and pieced, a part of her, given, an
unconditional love, waiting for the day
for thine to return and sculpt her for thy very own.
She hast taken her handkerchief to the wind,
caressed the air with temptation, discharging Thee,
seeking only peace and the pausing of her restlessness.
As the moon rises in its lavender myst, and she
mourns the loneliness in the reign of her days,
this Lady shall reach out to the world and give of herself
to the new of a brighter tomorrow.
[This message has been edited by Lady Ollyne (02-16-2003 08:33 AM).]