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| To Purge Your Spirit of It's Iron
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Out my window
the moon does shine.
My heart as frail as glass.
I am broken, bruised, and weakened.
I stare out the window.
Face reflected in the glass.
The world darkening as midnight.
The fields are alive with green.
The air is afresh with fragrant scent.
Delivery comes from beauty.
Beauty silver spun.
All night my chest rattles.
My heart grinds against my bones.
My moods toss me awake.
You, my child, are lost.
And, why am I sad?
For you are hard as iron.
Your words are fire and spit.
Your anger hazes my mind
and shakes my insides up.
I make some movements for happiness.
I think you are a lost cause.
My life... my own...
And, I am proud.
It's hard for me to say
I miss having you around.
To purge your spirit of it's iron.
Change it to silver and gold.
My heart would then rest, my love.
Together we could both grow old.
Lydia Workman
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Posted by lydiaworkman on 2008-03-03 20:52:51 | Rating: | Views: 60
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