Monday, February 1, 2010

bruises purple.

Thawing earth, the Spring's cold rain.
Seeping snow through rusted drains.
Heavy branches bow their heads.
Close your eyes, find your bed.
Icy tears, stain snow white sheets.
This is where - mind and soul shall meet.

Feel nothing, yet feel it all.
Mind reflecting on the fall.
Bruises purple, as darkest ice.
You've left it all, you can do it twice.
There can't be more you haven't felt before.
Get up, shut up, close the door.

Within the branches the birds will dance.
Every Spring, every Fall - nothing ever left to chance.
Snow will find the deepest soil.
The rotting memories, not left to spoil.
The earth will break, the ground will shiver.
The broken...breaking...will maybe soon be put together.

1 comment:

richie said...

Beautiful poetry Grace. =0)