There is a massive distance
between her smile and tears
when she writes about the rain.
Because her faded dreams
put her mind at ease
behind the places
where she stands
in pain.
Sitting in the garden
where one finds love
in those eyes
that speak of alone.
She writes lines
which intrigue mysteriously.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
when dawn breaks
across the trees.
The inner deepness of her words
hold on to each cloud,
crying out to the depths
of our bones.
They tell us our worst hours
contain the time outside
of her faded dreams
and that they too.....
will soon be gone.
When she writes about the rain
we smile
behind the places
where we stood in pain.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
knowing......
they never speak
in vain.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 4:00 AM UTC
There is a massive distance
between her smile and tears
when she writes about the rain.
Because her faded dreams
put her mind at ease
behind the places
where she stands
in pain.
Sitting in the garden
where one finds love
in those eyes
that speak of alone.
She writes lines
which intrigue mysteriously.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
when dawn breaks
across the trees.
The inner deepness of her words
hold on to each cloud,
crying out to the depths
of our bones.
They tell us our worst hours
contain the time outside
of her faded dreams
and that they too.....
will soon be gone.
When she writes about the rain
we smile
behind the places
where we stood in pain.
You can see her words dance
where she's walked,
knowing......
they never speak
in vain.
Copyright ©2012 Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
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