Everyone says I have a very warped and twisted sense of reality so I decided to sit down and write something sweet where no one get hurts at the end.
I looked out my window
At the grass I had mowed dozens of time
In the dimness between two houses
You were there, newly born
The fleeting light shone on your petals
Blue as a baby's eyes
The same look of innocence
The same illusion of purity
Their white edges reflected the golden morning light
They were as small as a second and begging to be noticed
I watched you reach for the sky through the light snow that fell during the night
I had to leave but your image played through my head.
Your beauty in a world of coldness
The way you stood when all the others had fallen
When I returned I saw that you had gone
Did I dream you?
Were you never there in the first place?
Looking through the window I see a little girl, maybe five years of age
Her red hair tied on top of her head
A small pink ribbon blows softly in the breeze
There you are...riding with her...making her smile
Young and innocent
Pretty and sweet
I see that the two of you belong together
I cry
Tears flow down my cheeks
Not at my loss
But rather at the joy that little girl has found.
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 836 times
Written on 2006-11-01 at 00:52
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The Little Blue Flower
The Little Blue FlowerI looked out my window
At the grass I had mowed dozens of time
In the dimness between two houses
You were there, newly born
The fleeting light shone on your petals
Blue as a baby's eyes
The same look of innocence
The same illusion of purity
Their white edges reflected the golden morning light
They were as small as a second and begging to be noticed
I watched you reach for the sky through the light snow that fell during the night
I had to leave but your image played through my head.
Your beauty in a world of coldness
The way you stood when all the others had fallen
When I returned I saw that you had gone
Did I dream you?
Were you never there in the first place?
Looking through the window I see a little girl, maybe five years of age
Her red hair tied on top of her head
A small pink ribbon blows softly in the breeze
There you are...riding with her...making her smile
Young and innocent
Pretty and sweet
I see that the two of you belong together
I cry
Tears flow down my cheeks
Not at my loss
But rather at the joy that little girl has found.
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 836 times
Written on 2006-11-01 at 00:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Kathy Lockhart |
