You see her
every so often.
In the flit of wind,
or lick of fire.
Entangled in the fine
mane of a wild horse,
as she ride bare back
across the plains.
Innocents
once encompassed
A porcelain face,
but time,
the enemy
stripped it away.
Pursed lips, and
Dandelion eyes
embedded in a meadow,
where the sunrise
is like late night
bonfires blazing high!
Warm winds stole his embers
and placed them in her heart.
The wind cradles its creation
as it whispers softly to her.
Prone to wander
for the hearts desire
craves the elements,
to run
to live
to die
The desires, that dangers,
the very last breath.
All or nothing.
Take the final step.
Small, smooth,
round pebbles
sparkle like jewels.
The the pristine waters,
where it rises and falls,
Like her chest
as she sleeps
in the light,
of the afternoon sun.
Touched by the elements;
with hair like gold wheat,
skin smooth as alabaster,
and the color of white tulips,
eyes of the meadow,
and lips curved
like mountains.
Strength to spare
for the weary.
As she journeys
deeper within.
Young she looks,
but wise she is.
She calls you in
while eyes are glowing,
with that mischievous smile,
her laughter is the echoes
of an early morning song.
Fire child of the mountains,
frail flower of the east.
Lady of fire,
never cease.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 7:43 PM UTC
You see her
every so often.
In the flit of wind,
or lick of fire.
Entangled in the fine
mane of a wild horse,
as she ride bare back
across the plains.
Innocents
once encompassed
A porcelain face,
but time,
the enemy
stripped it away.
Pursed lips, and
Dandelion eyes
embedded in a meadow,
where the sunrise
is like late night
bonfires blazing high!
Warm winds stole his embers
and placed them in her heart.
The wind cradles its creation
as it whispers softly to her.
Prone to wander
for the hearts desire
craves the elements,
to run
to live
to die
The desires, that dangers,
the very last breath.
All or nothing.
Take the final step.
Small, smooth,
round pebbles
sparkle like jewels.
The the pristine waters,
where it rises and falls,
Like her chest
as she sleeps
in the light,
of the afternoon sun.
Touched by the elements;
with hair like gold wheat,
skin smooth as alabaster,
and the color of white tulips,
eyes of the meadow,
and lips curved
like mountains.
Strength to spare
for the weary.
As she journeys
deeper within.
Young she looks,
but wise she is.
She calls you in
while eyes are glowing,
with that mischievous smile,
her laughter is the echoes
of an early morning song.
Fire child of the mountains,
frail flower of the east.
Lady of fire,
never cease.