She stood there waiting
As though some divinity;
The sunlight filtering through
Her soft brown tresses;
The gentle breeze billowing
Round her blue summer dress.
She stood there waiting,
With little streams of tears
Making their way down
Her cheeks flushing red;
Lips parted slightly
As though words failed her.
She stood there waiting
Eyes exploring unknown lands
Of dreams she'll never visit.
The flame within her soul
Flickering and dying out
While the Sun set outside.
~azmina
YOU ARE READING
Of Floating Buoys and Broken Bells
Poetry"Poetry flowed like little rivulets From the ocean that was her soul." ~azmina Our souls dance to the rhythm of poetry. A small collection of my poems that will, hopefully, provide the beats to your dance.
