Sitting atop the highest shelf,
soft porcelain face so pristine,
what fatal past have you glass eyes seen?
Dust covered and worn from an eternity’s time,
still she does not move from which she has no bind,
patiently it listens so kind.
And though a thousand years may pass,
never will her scarlet dream be heard,
the longing expressed in words.
Admiring her eternal beauty,
here I observe most everyday,
if she wouldn’t mind my stay.
Still doll, you may never be freed,
on display for the will of thy eyes,
none the less you can never break your confines.
I still speak to her softly kind words;
her thoughts can’t ever be heard,
unmoved as I say my final goodbye…
Still you do not answer?
View User's Journal
Everything goes wrong as the light begins to fade ...who carries the torch when no fire remains?
|
 |
|||||||||||||||||
