1843214
Hi, I really hope that some of the SGs out there really like this. It is a "darker side of dreaming" although it may not appear that way.
Enjoy!
Rearrangement
She is so dark,
She hardly holds onto her shaddow.
Beauty, like crinkled velvet,
Her gown trails slovenly,
Drifting in tow of her elegance.
Her stride is wide yet sneaky -
Hidden beneath the dress
The only fabric imperfection.
Regarless of this
Distance disappears before her
Candles dim in her presence
Their fires depraved of air
As she wooshes past
Either light trying to avoid her
Or light that she pushes away
She closes the left side
Of adjacent bedroom double-doors
Leaving the right side slightly ajar
One course of light leaks through
Originating from sputtering candles
From the past hallway and crashes
Into the right corner of her room
Washing itself oscillating distances
Up and down the crevice it defines
Nevertheless she does nothing to
Elimiate the shard that separates
Her from complete darkness.
The little light gives meaning
To the loneliness of her evening.
She crouches down
Into the corner light
She begins to sing to herself softly
A song like a mother sings
After a nightmere, lulled to sleep,
Like each night before
Dreaming different until morning comes
And on the eve of tomorrow
She will close the right door
Leaving the left side ajar
To sit in the opposite corner
From the night before
Finding the light a different way
Just so she can tell herself
She has tried to change things.
- WB
For the one (however I may find you):
I'm used to writing poetry and words
That grace pages
Like I long for you to grace me
With your presence
That spill out like water
Into a resevoir filling up
In order to contain them
That have the clear cadence
Of church bells, countlessly ringing
Sunday morning
Not poetry and words fumbled from my lips
Pouring out at clumsy, awkward times
Like I cannot contain them
Where any vessel may be overfilled
Like I would hand you a boquet
Of yellow roses,...
Hi, I really hope that some of the SGs out there really like this. It is a "darker side of dreaming" although it may not appear that way.
Enjoy!
Rearrangement
She is so dark,
She hardly holds onto her shaddow.
Beauty, like crinkled velvet,
Her gown trails slovenly,
Drifting in tow of her elegance.
Her stride is wide yet sneaky -
Hidden beneath the dress
The only fabric imperfection.
Regarless of this
Distance disappears before her
Candles dim in her presence
Their fires depraved of air
As she wooshes past
Either light trying to avoid her
Or light that she pushes away
She closes the left side
Of adjacent bedroom double-doors
Leaving the right side slightly ajar
One course of light leaks through
Originating from sputtering candles
From the past hallway and crashes
Into the right corner of her room
Washing itself oscillating distances
Up and down the crevice it defines
Nevertheless she does nothing to
Elimiate the shard that separates
Her from complete darkness.
The little light gives meaning
To the loneliness of her evening.
She crouches down
Into the corner light
She begins to sing to herself softly
A song like a mother sings
After a nightmere, lulled to sleep,
Like each night before
Dreaming different until morning comes
And on the eve of tomorrow
She will close the right door
Leaving the left side ajar
To sit in the opposite corner
From the night before
Finding the light a different way
Just so she can tell herself
She has tried to change things.
- WB
For the one (however I may find you):
I'm used to writing poetry and words
That grace pages
Like I long for you to grace me
With your presence
That spill out like water
Into a resevoir filling up
In order to contain them
That have the clear cadence
Of church bells, countlessly ringing
Sunday morning
Not poetry and words fumbled from my lips
Pouring out at clumsy, awkward times
Like I cannot contain them
Where any vessel may be overfilled
Like I would hand you a boquet
Of yellow roses, and forget-me-nots.
-WB
Enjoy!
Rearrangement
She is so dark,
She hardly holds onto her shaddow.
Beauty, like crinkled velvet,
Her gown trails slovenly,
Drifting in tow of her elegance.
Her stride is wide yet sneaky -
Hidden beneath the dress
The only fabric imperfection.
Regarless of this
Distance disappears before her
Candles dim in her presence
Their fires depraved of air
As she wooshes past
Either light trying to avoid her
Or light that she pushes away
She closes the left side
Of adjacent bedroom double-doors
Leaving the right side slightly ajar
One course of light leaks through
Originating from sputtering candles
From the past hallway and crashes
Into the right corner of her room
Washing itself oscillating distances
Up and down the crevice it defines
Nevertheless she does nothing to
Elimiate the shard that separates
Her from complete darkness.
The little light gives meaning
To the loneliness of her evening.
She crouches down
Into the corner light
She begins to sing to herself softly
A song like a mother sings
After a nightmere, lulled to sleep,
Like each night before
Dreaming different until morning comes
And on the eve of tomorrow
She will close the right door
Leaving the left side ajar
To sit in the opposite corner
From the night before
Finding the light a different way
Just so she can tell herself
She has tried to change things.
- WB
For the one (however I may find you):
I'm used to writing poetry and words
That grace pages
Like I long for you to grace me
With your presence
That spill out like water
Into a resevoir filling up
In order to contain them
That have the clear cadence
Of church bells, countlessly ringing
Sunday morning
Not poetry and words fumbled from my lips
Pouring out at clumsy, awkward times
Like I cannot contain them
Where any vessel may be overfilled
Like I would hand you a boquet
Of yellow roses,...