Blog Archive

Saturday, March 28, 2009

...

She hums a simple tune
gazing up to a dieing moon
as frail hands reach out
lips pucker and pout,
wishing on falling stars
never got her very far.

Standing in fields of May
where daisies bow and pray
a heart beat wind dances
reminds her of love's chances,
caught between tides
caught between lies.

Her wings have been clipped
but that dark blade slipped
spilling a travelers secret
to paint the canvas of regret,
lines follow infinity...
colored in divinity.