Be as the leaves of one tree dappled by shades of light that are never in the same pattern, floating as stardust or leaves, dream as a poet and hear the words of small things in existence, they are ways of home for the lost one, an elusive dancer of the infinite.
The harvest is done, a blue moon hangs from a string of silver North wind found summer, and has stalked and killed her. I'm sending out puffs of ice cold breath tender stream gathering in the frost watching bejeweled leaves reach their final death and fall amongst the lost.
whatever i touch turns into tragedy— Midas wishes his hands were made of mine.
i dare not touch trees and their leaves— their old age will not matter once i graze their skin.
i do wonder if everything good that comes are worthy of my ruin— they quickly turn sour and ugly once they, finally, rest their heads on my lap and i am left here, once again, picking up the scraps, telling myself nothing incredibly, or inherently, bad has happened yet.
but what if it comes?
what if the world decides to put the blame on me and punish me for simply being alive?
Our Lives are not always Pretty, rarely it's coated in Colours of Gold. A few bask in Rays of Sunshine. While others, shiver in the bitter Cold. At times, Life pictures joyful Faces and at times, it has a empty Past. Someone One Day, will fill your Spaces. But see to it, your memories Last. Tears like Leaves, will fall to the Ground and your Memories, will turn Cold. It's Love, that makes Life worth Living. See to it that, it's never Sold.
Count the Raindrops, falling in a Rainstorm. Count the Leaves, that are there on a Tree. Count the Stars, Up there in Heaven. Count the Fishes, Swimming out at Sea. Take the Happiness, of the Universe. and Add them all, to a Love that never Ends. Her Heart, will taste only Laughter and Her Eyes, will hold U until the End.
When nothings wrong, I dont write well. I try and fail to think of a word besides 'filters' to describe the light coming through the wisteria leaves. Soak up the light-filled air of the early morning, And call this a day of few words.
Like a red-crowned crane, she is not bothered by the cold She chases the last tints of autumn She hums as she hears the sound of the leaves under her feet She has not forgotten all her dreams she has in her heart She continues to live
I started to float and I’m ready to fall But I’m not frightened I’d never cling to your branch I’ve memorized the happiness you gave The nourishment we shared I will always be a part of you Worry not my dear I’ll be back again to find you