Like a piece of good news is in the air,
She doesn’t whine, complain, brood,
But watches nomadic flowers everywhere.
Her eyes fill up with a moisture that isn’t tears,
She inhales deep, exhales out her pain,
Letting them transform into foggy reindeers,
Letting their prints form and remain.
Her hair dances to the melody around,
Stray, yet at peace with that singular moment,
Snaking their way across the oasis they’ve found,
Looking for more such that might have been sent.
She feels a breeze that has managed to allude,
And keep all her troubles far away from here,
In those few seconds, that are now set to conclude,
She is without care, without plans, without fear.
0 reflections:
Post a Comment