A better time
In the winter of the storm
when truth is beaten down
when memories falter at the door
when hope is quiet
and there is no sound.
When the solitude of a thought
rings so loud it breaks your heart
when the tears drop from a distant cloud
and you beg to leave but never depart.
When every brush stroke
is black and grey
when the view is always spoiled
and no colours remain
in the fabric of the day.
This is when i sit on the cliff of hope
skip through the rock pools of my mind
watch moon beams dance
along the white horses silver mane
and turn my thoughts
to a better time.
© Rik - 17/05/2007
Poetry by Rik
Read 962 times
Written on 2007-05-18 at 02:50
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