Where the wind blows,
there is my song,
In cinder clouds
torn from the sky,
there is my music
and no-one sees
why,
The dance of the flowers
after the rain,
there lives my soul,
flood filled with pain,
Below the settling lace of snow,
I still see her eyes
closing so slow,
Now an unbound heart
is all that I know,
And the cinder sky
is the only place
left without any
rain,
Till I can fold up
my heart,
and make it start beating again
A contest entry
- with the abstract in mind.. by The-Phoenix.
900 points, ended January 10, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Well I know of one thing you were doing on Christmas day or night, whichever the case may be, writing this beautiful poem, and one that comes with a touch of sadness. Well done and keep the muse flowing.
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