there is no world for her
behind the rosebushes,
papa, so let her go.
no one ever told her
how to believe, and so
she whispered what she
dreamed during the night.
and it was beautiful
to me.
there is a breath
at her doorway,
and a voice calling out to all
her stories that she told
only to the bricks,
counting
memories in the cracks.
who calls out
for her now,
belle, belle,
venez ici,
pour je vous adore ?
father, let your daughter go
this time. she breathes
against your bars
and the windows parallel
a prayer
rising from her hands.
she is beautiful
to me.
Author notes
"belle, belle, venez ici, pour je vous adore."
"beautiful, beautiful, come here, for I love you."
A contest entry
- Who Is She? by Gypsie Ink.
300 points, ended July 18, 2008, 7 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
...
Comments
-
WHOAAA.
gov school is over and thankfully, i can appreciate your brilliance again.
-
Emotional!
Romantic and exquisite. A powerful and captivating write. Thank you for your entry and Best of luck in my contest.
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