Through an affixed gaze
I complimented her ethereal beauty,
no longer concealed through
the exterior of vibrantly colored dresses,
but standing bare in such distinguished
recognition that only the strongest leaves
have survived the heights of a birds eye view,
hanging on to her every limb
like mother cradling child,
her children have never left the nest yet,
perhaps they shall be whisked away
in a faceless day of some motivational charm,
leaving home but inevitably returning
once more to experience her nostalgic fabric,
clinging on to their mothers
all-too familiar white dress.
View User's Journal
A Lost Book From Peter
Greetings From Neverland
 |
