Silver girl
The evening walks away
To join the dust of dreams
Night lulls its way through
Bringing with it
A silence
She walks by
The creaking wooden boards
And footprints in silver-moon cinders
Her only company
The tips of the pine
Tap against the windows
The moon wrangles
Putting on and taking off the clouds
Conflict abounds
Auburn tresses slide
Below the nape of her neck
Dry emotions form
At the base of her throat
She lets out a scream
Salty and earth shattering
The owls outside
Scram
Oblivious to her form
On the floor,
In a fit.
posted by Prat @ 9:51 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
>> The moon wrangles
Putting on and taking off the clouds
Conflict abounds.
This is beautiful. Moon putting on and taking off the clouds, and thereby wrangling with itself.. and the resultant conflict..
Shows very subtly how even simple things might could actually be an expression of intense internal conflict.. wonderful...
love the way it all comes together-personified natural elements intermingling to create a scene with perfect words..
this one is eerie!!! :)
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