flowing hair,
crowned with white and
yellow flowers
by boredom now
entangled by the summer breeze
I wear a dress,
and upon my thighs
is a book,
stained with my now drying tears.

my dimples gleam in the bright sun,
my heart as pure and light
as the white dogs tumbling
playfully around me
serenity in my heart,
you on my mind,
this is how it should be.

Fruit uneaten to the seed,
A glance at the heavens
Halting inescapable rot,
Here it lays brown and withered.

A chronic flicker of a lamp
In the corner of the room
A temperament that festers
Frustrated at the change of endeavours,

Waning moons missing pieces,
Resentful, longing for the sun
Indescribable hunger for a glimmer
over torrential nights,

Yearning like a fire
Begs to be fed
Reaching out to darkness
The bed, now half slept.

Restlessness crawls within bones
A tormenting
Unrelenting
Wind in the cold,

A soft low hum within the safety of four
Walls,
An unrecognisable sound
Without an ear, joyful to be here at all.

Fruit will soon bitter with frosty mornings,
Unnurtured,
I plant myself in grounds
Sullen with the season.