Good thought- horribly composed.
*shrug* Whattayagunnado.....
As the cheery branches droop and the blossoms claim their flight;
as the weeping willow boughs sway in the crisp september breeze-
I drift with the clouds and the world creeps away from me
and I feel the ocean beneath my feet; the soft warm sand on my toes
and a fleeting gust of hot air wisps my hair from my face
and I am home again.
As the autumn foliage, blazing with the intensity of a million flames,
sparks a luminosity against the paling green grass
and perennial flowers recede and seek slumber in their bulbs
from that sharp september air
I gaze down from the clouds- the world slipping further away
and I can taste the scents of the mountain air, of a sweet bubbling brook
of a hundred evergreens perched upon a precipice
and the branches shift with a creak,
and flowers thrusting their sallow petals into the wind.
and I am home again.
The scent of apple orchards, of sweet cider and marigolds,
hang dense in the air. The canadian geese fly overhead, and
the sillhouettes cast against the fading september sun draw my eyes
to the clouds, and their steady and stolid disposition carries me away in thought
Carries me to where it's cold. Vacant. Stalagmites hang,
their steady drip echo-ing out across a barren, artic landscape
This place, like no other, envokes despondency
the isolation is oppressing, the frigid cold chills to the bone.
my insides quiver and my legs collapse under the heft
of such a formidable and merciless gust of wind
I begin to cry, but the tears burn
as they fuse themselves to my cheek in ice.
and they crack.
and splinter.
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