05-08-2013, 11:27 PM
final version (thank you Tec, Tomh, Cidermaid, & trueenigma
Days roll by, one into another;
waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
petals closing in the dark.
Dandelions flee past rustling curtains,
their parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.
Beyond dusty panes,
reflections of a woman,
lost in reverie.
Chafed hands fulfill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder,
waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world
Revised version 1
Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
rose petals closing in the dark.
Past rustling curtains dandelions fly free,
fleeing parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.
Beyond dusty panes, reflections
of a woman tending a garden,
lost in reverie.
Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder;
Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world.
Original
Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.
Beyond the dusty panes
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.
Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.
Days roll by, one into another;
waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
petals closing in the dark.
Dandelions flee past rustling curtains,
their parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.
Beyond dusty panes,
reflections of a woman,
lost in reverie.
Chafed hands fulfill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder,
waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world
Revised version 1
Days roll by, one into another.
Waves of melancholy.
Her lust for life's intensity is fading,
rose petals closing in the dark.
Past rustling curtains dandelions fly free,
fleeing parachutes carried by the wind,
escaping her sadness, a blanket of despair
they travel to their destiny.
Beyond dusty panes, reflections
of a woman tending a garden,
lost in reverie.
Her chafed hands fill their mission,
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for the thunder;
Waiting for the lightning
to waken a lifeless world.
Original
Through the rustling curtains
a damp breeze fills the room.
Beyond the dusty panes
the reflection of a woman
weeding her flower bed in the rain.
Undaunted by the cold
chafed hands attend her mission,
resolutely caring for the
blooms of red and gold.
She listens for thunder
to break the sound of silence,
a flash of lightning
to waken her lifeless world.