Still clouds are linear with what is now over next, bare emotions lay shores the tide will wash before she’s home,
solitary footsteps impress grains of damp sands this day (they will be of the past tomorrow) whilst tempered dark colours demand everything from her genteel ways.
She walks miles without ever feeling obliged, greets her horizons by reaching out only soft hands to caress the reasons for wanting to be set free from everything chained to these dark days of pain.
Life seems vast when surrounded by nature’s elegance and beauty, her mind roams, adsorbing scenes of forgiveness with grace.
Strolling light, feminine kindness dressed in silk whispers sing sweet to her gallant Winter nomads flying home.
Does eve-song arrive too soon?
A melancholic warm breeze slows to a constant of thoughts, a symphony to lost scenarios from an existence endowed with the stark memories she craves.
Beautiful skies hide ice cool tears that can roll forever and sit in her favourite corner of life, along with the love of her kin and close friends, whom in turn enhance her solemn refrain with appearances from snapshots of precious moments laden with pleasures.
Her desires will be followed by those wishing the same, sundown will pose questions toward others, but she will have moved onto another plain, another wish, another day, to be alone….
©Nick.Hawkins, all poetry copyrights reserved 25/6/13