Saturday, August 15, 2009

To Ruin Such a Work of Art

standing on a hill of leaves and grass
wind blows life in lifeless leaves
across the lawn like children
they scurry from game to game
blown away from dust to dust
a turtleneck sweater cradles her chin
denim legs defy the breeze
planted firm as the world blows past

the rains come and feed the grass
growing high to reach the sun
the warmth awakes the seeds to grow
the light’s brushstrokes paint the flowers
the sun that brings forth life brings forth death
his furnace flames burn the grass
his wrath wilts the flower’s glory
their peddles fall to the ground

her home has become strange
her memories don’t seem to fit
dreams have been rooted from their beds
exposed to the frost and snow
protective walls have been torn down
the wind chills her bones those she trusted betrayed her
she doesn’t recognize her own family

now she’s alone
and independent force of will
no one to lean on or share the weight
no one to love or waste her tears
why care for a world that doesn’t care?
why believe a liar?
why trust a thief?
they lie in wait to steal her soul

No comments:

Post a Comment