06-14-2017, 01:59 AM
As light breaks through the mountain ridges
It touches upon pastures and cobblestone bridges
On top of the summit, tall there would tower
Where once bloomed a lovely autumns flower
He had no kin of his own, for those were with the trees down below
Accompanied solely by the light, the wind and the snow
The light didn’t engage in conversation and was rather taciturn
Save it for a morning greeting, and his moonlit return
The snow would often mutter and grind,
But unlike the trees would think, he was warm and kind
The most loquacious of them all, was without a doubt the wind
Which told stories so wild, the flower couldn’t have ever imagined
Thus their lives were composed of tranquility and bliss
Until one day however, something was quite amiss
When the snow croaked to the wind, to which she did not take heart
Enraged, she stormed so strong it could sunder even the trees below apart
In response the snow started to rumble and tear
The avalanche dragging the flower down, in a fit of despair
After the wind bore witness to the passing of her friend
Tears of bitter grief would violently descend
There in the mountains, where the wind still howls out in search
Dear trees, have you perhaps seen my beloved flower, and what of the snow?
I think the flower got lost in that fateful storm, replies a birch
regarding your other friend, spoke the oak, was drowned in your sorrow.
The wind could not help but continue to grieve
But thankfully the light was there to console and relieve
As the light pierced through her clouds on the mountain ridges,
Upon those now distant pastures and cobblestone bridges.
It touches upon pastures and cobblestone bridges
On top of the summit, tall there would tower
Where once bloomed a lovely autumns flower
He had no kin of his own, for those were with the trees down below
Accompanied solely by the light, the wind and the snow
The light didn’t engage in conversation and was rather taciturn
Save it for a morning greeting, and his moonlit return
The snow would often mutter and grind,
But unlike the trees would think, he was warm and kind
The most loquacious of them all, was without a doubt the wind
Which told stories so wild, the flower couldn’t have ever imagined
Thus their lives were composed of tranquility and bliss
Until one day however, something was quite amiss
When the snow croaked to the wind, to which she did not take heart
Enraged, she stormed so strong it could sunder even the trees below apart
In response the snow started to rumble and tear
The avalanche dragging the flower down, in a fit of despair
After the wind bore witness to the passing of her friend
Tears of bitter grief would violently descend
There in the mountains, where the wind still howls out in search
Dear trees, have you perhaps seen my beloved flower, and what of the snow?
I think the flower got lost in that fateful storm, replies a birch
regarding your other friend, spoke the oak, was drowned in your sorrow.
The wind could not help but continue to grieve
But thankfully the light was there to console and relieve
As the light pierced through her clouds on the mountain ridges,
Upon those now distant pastures and cobblestone bridges.