This light is not of the morning.
Warm, dull hues fall on this majestic tree. The bright leaves turn to olive. The grand trunk bathes, in what seems to be, the last trickles of light for the day. Waltzing dark shadows of little leaves caressing it to slumber.
There is the distant chirp of a lone bird.
But the day has just begun.
The lone chirp turns into a cacophony of chirping.
The shadows of little leaves disappear into oblivion. The grand trunk is washed with streaming light from the parting clouds. The olive leaves turn a grass green. Flares of white and yellow light dwarf this once majestic tree.
This light is of the morning now.
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A dream within a dream
About Me
- . : A : .
- There is a magic in the air that permeates through the very soul of my existence. There is a stillness in the night that floods my senses beyond my imagination. There is a madness inside of me that overflows in everything that I create. There is a past behind me that is overcrowded with memories that drain me out.
4 comments:
Never thought a web search on English,August would bring me here!
I am so glad that it did.
Don't know how to praise your writing. I am so lost for words.
Your fan.
i keep checking hoping to read fresh posts... why have you stopped???c
I, too, miss your poetry. It is difficult to begin again, but worth it once you start.
Don't know if you remember me - used to be called 'Pincushion' of The Glass Wall - we used to be regulars at each others blogs :)
Then I stopped - and now I am back - but looks like now you've stopped :(
Do drop by at my new blog - LIFESCAPES, if you can!
Have a good life!
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