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Lydia Feb 2015
A smooth rustling wind
Whistles through the trees
Rays of sunshine warm
The glistening surface of the water,
A murky water, dark as night
Floating there is a flower,
A child of utmost purity
Pink as a blush,
White as snow,
Ocean blue,
Burning red,
Calm purple.
A rainbow of colors
Meaning a rainbow of things
Beauty of a Hindu goddess
Bright as an Egyptian sun
As enlightened as Buddha
A diamond amongst the weeds
Lydia Feb 2015
Inhale exhale, breathe
In out, in out, in out
My lungs are failing

Boom, boom, boom
My heart pounds
A disheartening rhythm

No, no
He can't find me
They can't find me

Tap, tap, tap
Right, left, right, left
I hear footsteps

A glance over my shoulder
Too close, too close
They're on to me

A chill runs down my spine
A shiver in the darkness
"Oh, precious"

A tear slips down my face
I need to hide
I can't be found

It's too late
They've caught me
It's over.

My blood is ice
Sweat covers my limbs
I need to escape

Please, Please
Can't their be a way
To end my misery

Anything, anything...
Gasp, breath, blink
Awake, at last
Lydia Apr 2014
Dear Miss Suzy,
I'm sorry for never naming you
Never treating you as something more
I know you are
So beautiful, so clear, so refreshing

You've felt my tears on you wooden spine
Crimson with rage but butterscotch which empathy
You sit there next to my TV
Wanting me to play you

I want to play your beautiful piece of wood
For you are so gorgeous
I wish you could see how much I care
How much inspiration you feed me with

Your silver strings gleam with beauty
And careful crafted wood
I love you dearly
Through tears and joy
Lydia Apr 2014
Gem
Happiness
Is a gleaming diamond

It holds it's value
Through the harshest of times
Yet is so hard to reach

It's rare as gold
And sharp as a knife
That can stab you in the back

Happiness is a gleaming diamond
Rare as gold, so hard to reach
Lydia Apr 2014
A pencil
Is an open door

You can go forward
And step back

The door swings open
And there is opportunity

The door swings closed
And your past is a crumpled paper

A pencil is an open door
Writing on crumpled paper
Lydia Apr 2014
You stand there
Old and wise
With your wispy branches
As light as a feather
The sun beams down on you
Warming
Your tired trunk
You sip
At the water's edge
Gleaming
Streaming
The children swing
From your branches
Giggling
Wiggling
You
With green leaves
Running
Up and down
Will you teach me your lessons?
Or
Must I find my own willow
To ask my questions?
Lydia Apr 2014
Whistling in ears
Tornadoes of whirling hair
Wagging tongue run dry
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