They think they’re prefect
Their ways are straight
Each in order.
They never change.
They think they got it
Got it all right
But they are nothing
But lines of night.
Clouds amongst the lines of night
Fluffs of brightness reflecting light
They’re icy cold
In darkest paths
Their ways unbroken
Proud. Frozen. Solid.
In all bleakness empty
Their ways unchanging
For they are nothing
But lines of night.
Clouds amongst the lines of night
Bringing hope and reflecting light
Their hearts are hard
Afraid of change
Wanting to stay
Thinking of a new.
Enjoying what’s the same
Hoping to be more
More than the nothing
of lines of night.
Clouds amongst the lines of night
Fading to day of bright sunlight
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This is really pretty Patricia!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed it.
-Sarah
I love the picture. And the poem/thought thingy was brilliant.
ReplyDeleteSmashing with a cup o' tea.