Violence; the smoky air has
become a white tornado.
The violin of nature releases
a chord of dark romance.
The other side is there-
from what I can see-
she just wants to be free.
A sparrow jumps to and fro
between city skylines and
colours in black.
She is talking smooth-
an impression in a sunrise.
Onward, onward-a floral circus.
I cannot work this.
Speeding drops of rain become
the final goodbye of summer.
She is building a bridge of chimes
to aid her in her deafness.
Teacups fill with sunshine
and a stranger dressed in silk
is made of honeycombs of milk.
The crystal has broken up
into thousands of tiny stars
Hopeless nostalgia fills the sky
and ivory skin is revealed.
She is on a crash course of
late night manipulation.
She has witnessed salvation.
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 9:41 AM UTC
Violence; the smoky air has
become a white tornado.
The violin of nature releases
a chord of dark romance.
The other side is there-
from what I can see-
she just wants to be free.
A sparrow jumps to and fro
between city skylines and
colours in black.
She is talking smooth-
an impression in a sunrise.
Onward, onward-a floral circus.
I cannot work this.
Speeding drops of rain become
the final goodbye of summer.
She is building a bridge of chimes
to aid her in her deafness.
Teacups fill with sunshine
and a stranger dressed in silk
is made of honeycombs of milk.
The crystal has broken up
into thousands of tiny stars
Hopeless nostalgia fills the sky
and ivory skin is revealed.
She is on a crash course of
late night manipulation.
She has witnessed salvation.
Copyright (c) Amanda Rae Rouillard 2010 and Word of Mouth Coalition.
Any illegal reproduction of this poem in any form without explicit permission is forbidden.