
Frivolous contentment of what may not last
A dream in the making a nightmare to pass
The corn flowers are blue the sky a dull gray
The lilies have bloomed but the roses have died
The seagulls are flying overhead as we speak
But none are attempting a flight that’s not safe
The ocean is angry and I search for the calm
White washes the blue in tumultuous scorn
My body attempts a fierce transformation
Yet my soul is a petal blown in the winds
A life I once new fades into the past
A new day is dawning I know cannot last
The flurry of winds bring salt to my eyes
But no one will see till the rains pass on by
My self is a blossom thrown from the trees
In dark brown resentment, laying withered and torn
The lighthouse casts amber glow far out to sea
A fog horn a warning to stay far away.
The mists are a haven to all that would hide
as ghosts of the Cliffside on an incoming tide
Current Mood: |
peaceful |