Oh, how she moves. Her body is the personification of earth’s beauty and glory. He watches as her curls bounce like the autumn leaves that encounter a brisk wind. He studies the leaves as they dance in the wind; brown, red, and orange in hue. He listens as her words flow like lyrics making out the melodies of the cool clear streams in the valley. He walks beside the river to listen to the rhythms as they ebb and flow. Her fragrance is like a meadow consumed by lavender; royal, regal, smooth, and inviting. He dances through the meadow and blunders to his knees, only to be greeted by the soft blanket that is her scent. Her essence is a prism of colors, broken down into vivid strands of light. Her touch, her touch is a feeling he longs for. In reaching out for her, she speaks;
Life is like a rainbow yet to be colored in
Trying to find it’s purpose from within…within
Cool like a summer’s breeze that tickles my nose
Warm like a winter’s fire that roasts my toes
Swift is my love
Just like a shooting star
In the night sky
Quick as it comes
It goes
Asking no questions why
Wanting to wander free
But so contained is my love
For you
Like drops of dew.
He does not understand her warning. The closer he attempts to get to her image the greater the distance becomes. He remembers how he felt as a child. His mother would turn on the water hose on a hot sunny day. He would watch as the water, and the sun collided to create a spectrum of colors. He wished to seize those wondrous hues and preserve them in his pocket for later. Upon reaching out for them, however, his hand would slip right through the mirage and take the colors with it. This brought him great sorrow as a child, and it brings him great sorrow now.
Life is like a rainbow yet to be colored in
Trying to find it’s purpose from within…within
Cool like a summer’s breeze that tickles my nose
Warm like a winter’s fire that roasts my toes
Swift is my love
Just like a shooting star
In the night sky
Quick as it comes
It goes
Asking no questions why
Wanting to wander free
But so contained is my love
For you
Like drops of dew.
He does not understand her warning. The closer he attempts to get to her image the greater the distance becomes. He remembers how he felt as a child. His mother would turn on the water hose on a hot sunny day. He would watch as the water, and the sun collided to create a spectrum of colors. He wished to seize those wondrous hues and preserve them in his pocket for later. Upon reaching out for them, however, his hand would slip right through the mirage and take the colors with it. This brought him great sorrow as a child, and it brings him great sorrow now.
RSS Feed