Snow Blind
The moon is too bright,I can't see your tears tonight
There are days when the sun just glistens, bounces prisms off the soaked green lawns, the bark on the trees cheer and even though Autumn is trying to shrug her way in, it's a jolly 'move over darling' sort of way.
We had a little hush in the air last night - day and night clashed for a bit but night was more relentless and told day, that she had had her share - it was 'move over darling' I am beautiful too. There was a sigh and it was, as always it is - the lengthening hours and the fall of the shroud. I watched the trees become shadows - their branches were arms, tremulously waving - blood looks black in the fading light and the single red rose bent her head, said goodnight.
I love you, I said to the world at large, I love you, more than you will ever know - yet my heart wasn't in it, I found tears falling - the beauty, the finality made me cry, like the years that passed by.
Sleep was a shrug as fitlessly I fell - too hot, too cold, to bereft to just let it go - day had her hold, night the weariness - my body slumped, my mind energised by the spectre of fear and worry. I love and I feel, it is so deep in my heart - Do we persevere to survive or the other way round? 'I love' is a conscience where we are nothing; fear is a drug because we can withstand anything - when you love, you love so hard and the recipients of this love are the ones we fear for. It makes us strong, it makes us weak too. I love you, I said as I lay in my bed, with my body canted, twisted in angles - soon it came before I realised - night cast its spell I slipped into sleep - awoke to the cacophany of alarms in my head and I moved, eager to rid of the jarring.
I looked out on the lawns, grass like a haircut badly gone wrong - the tangled trees standing defiantly proud - all cloaked in the dew that fell heavy last night - waiting for the sun to greet them with warm fluffy towels. The thought made me laugh as naked in the shower I ran rivers on my skin. The scent of lotion absorbed into me - I smooth out one leg catch the lines and upward strokes, the way one is taught; this is my morning scent, the scent you don't know, the me who sets out trying to conquer and more often failing, flailing in pea soup. I hang beads into the cleavage, stick rings on my fingers that glisten in lies. What to wear? Despite cotton and lace, nothing too racy, just in case, who knows?
Sun is wrestling the breeze rustling and who am I, who the hell am I? I'm a wanderer waiting for coffee, and yoghurt. The dog hits his tail on the floor as I walk past, he is too lazy yet to move, yet he's used to early morning shenanigans, the routine does not alarm him , he lifts his head slightly, acknowledges, he feels my thoughts, I know that; he is getting older now, soon his time will come and one morning I shall tread downstairs and there will be no more him. Sadness is contrary to the beauty of today.
I dress, dry hair, I think about music, I listen to opera - downstairs I turn on current affairs, listen to mayhem and gossip - I pour coffee, I hate the taste - It is my drug and yet I can live without it.
And a late sun, squints, feels like flint starting a fire'; Autumn is a liar you know, but I far prefer her to winter. There is nothing worse than being snow blind.
Poetry by Elle
Read 635 times
Written on 2014-01-10 at 20:48
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