She's fizzled out,
that bright young swallow,
her dark irises that once held a shred of talent have lost their luster,
when will you give up on this paper version of a thrill?
get back down and feast your eyes
on this locked chest,
open it and find nothing.
That road will always be waiting for you,
never go looking for it
you will return hardened and empty,
you might cut the last string tied to you,
get back down and feast your eyes
on this old man waiting for you to make him smile,
his lamenting fingers balled up
pushing away that road you are looking for.
No use in remembering each stalemate,
tip-toe your way back to the emptiness
it will hold you in its arms and keep you safe
as waves of sand wash over the possibilities of that smile,
she watched as each string snapped,
she watched as they bled away years,
that road wrapping around her eyes,
effectively rendering her sightless.
The aperture will nuzzle its way closed
with each caress of the emptiness.
She shall hold the trifling prize,
she shall get back down and feast her eyes
on that old man swelling with pride,
she shall be empty and hollow,
but she shall finally witness that smile
the one he longed for,
the smile her kaleidoscope had drowned.