I wade through a silver stream
clear and pure to reveal the insides clean.
Flanked by blades of humble green
Paying their dues of dew to the stream.
With dampened attire and spirits within
I walk to a dirty pier, lighted dim
Cluttered windows and dusty panes
Do no good to the clouds within.
With a stroke of luck, I muster strength
To push the glass with hope still tint
And peer past the pier’s pane
To breathe a wisp of sweet spring.
Far beyond the mounds of stone
A ray of sun caresses my soul
Opens my eyes to a thing so pretty
Colorful wings and a thing of beauty.
She hovers around to catch my vision
And lets me forget the darkened room
Fixes my heart to her colorful bliss
And cleans my spirit like a broom
As I stare at her bluish hue
my heart fills with joyous bloom
She ushers me to and eternal truth
On her way around some sunflower shoots
Though travel space and time asunder
The brilliant yellow sleeps under
Gruff sepals in gloomy winter
For the sun to rise and stop her slumber.
The fresh morning bloom ,now waves
and sings to her lovers gleam
On it sits, my friend from a distant land
My pretty ,little papillon.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire