A spring that was lost in autumn,
A cloud that lost it's silver lining.
A sun that lost it's warmth and glow,
A star that's no more shining.
A valley once serene, now lost
Beneath layers of rock and sand.
A harp given up by an angel,
Being played in the devil's hands.
There is still the monsoon there always was.
Now, intimidating to her. Fear, when with him, was unknown.
There are still all the seasons there always were,
They all seem like winter - an everlasting coldness - now that she's alone.
A rainbow of seven colours,
Painted a dark shade of grey.
A little girl who set out
With one she trusted.
He loved her, he'd always say.
And he let go of her hand...
Somewhere midway.
3 people actually cared to comment, what about you?:
i know it's not really a happy poem, but YOU POSTED! yay! :D
:D ..yay as well. i thought i'd forgotten how to write.. :|
No one forgets how to write. But one can actually get rusty! It's scary when that happens.
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