when i was a child
my sisters used to tell me tales
of princes and kings
and dragons slain
of gold and silver
and queens and crowns
of fairies and forests
and elves and trees
my sisters used to tell me tales
of princes and kings
and dragons slain
of gold and silver
and queens and crowns
of fairies and forests
and elves and trees
and of mystical kingdoms
and glories of conquests
and of love found and lost
and gained
again
and of pain and heartbreak
dark hearts of madness
evil men and women
that shook their angry fists
at the coming of a pure dawn
and raged
against the deep velvet coat of
night
and
everyone
was
always
so
utterly
happy
happy
eventually
and my eyelashes used to flutter
like the wings of birds in flight
resting, finally
in eternal silence
like the princesses in the tales
told
awaiting a kiss of a lover
awaiting her throne
awaiting her death
awaiting her birth
awaiting the day
when she
will truly
be free
from eternal
waiting
woman
always
waiting
for
whom?
waiting
for
what?
waiting
why?
the answer eluded me then
as words waltzed crescendos
across my subconscious self
curling like smoke rings
holding hands with each other
letters forming words
creating sentences
one day to be recalled
and written
Oh, such sweet innocence!
like the first snowfall
in slow motion freeze frame
landing upon the grass, still green
Autumn barely gone
and all the little children
standing outside
standing outside
mouths wide open
chins tilted towards the sky
cerulean
catching snowflakes
in awe
of the wonder and divinity
of the wonder and divinity
of Mother
Nature
pure
like the chalk lines freshly sketched
around your body
lying face down
in a pool of my
heart
broken
lying tattered and torn
like the chalk lines freshly sketched
around your body
lying face down
in a pool of my
heart
broken
lying tattered and torn
shredded
like confetti