Open Poetry #39 |
Precocious Passion Passed (a lament) |
WindWalker Senior Member
since 2001-10-12
Posts 1218 |
A colorless autumn field; dried grass moving in the wind waiting for the fire; all that remains of love once sown here. We called this place our heaven: a song-filled haven where we hid our sinful pleasures. In the passion of Summer it surely was, but now smoke rises as a different fire burns. I watch a hungry fire consume that past until nothing remains but blackened, barren ground exposed to rain and wind. I cry in silence, knowing my tears can never bring back summer’s sweetness nor be enough to saturate the soil and yet the floodgates open and tears flow like rain upon a thirsty soil. |
||
© Copyright 2006 Sharran WindWalker - All Rights Reserved | |||
ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
So much said, in what was not. After the fall...there is spring. You wrote this beautifully. TD |
||
seraphin Senior Member
since 2000-09-24
Posts 1004Michigan |
This is unquestionably lovely. From first line, to tear evoking end, a beautiful read. Sandra |
||
⇧ top of page ⇧ | ||
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |