The wind sighs a hollow moan, as she whistles through the trees
Piercing the musky night, tortured laments are blowing in the breeze.
A thousand memories, shattered shards of glass, splinter my hands
As I reach out to grab, to seize, to hold: The keys to those lost lands.
What map could lead me back? What compass show me the way?
To the happy places of childhood, when all seemed good and gay…
In a time before, before… When all was new and beautiful to me
Now a whirlpool twists, pulls and binds me with lost joys. Free,
To do as she would please, I suffocate, breathing those memories
The wind sighs a hollow moan, as she whistles through the trees.
Melancholia, sits upon my doorstep, pale as a ghost of times passed
The times, those good times which came and went too fast…
Deep scars embedded in my skin, but deeper in my soul still.
Melancholia, watch the river of time as she turns that heavy mill.
YOU ARE READING
Tears and blossom
Teen FictionPoetry for the Attys This is a collection of poetry I wrote over the last few months. Each poem is special to me in one way or another... Each tells a story. It was interesting to write in forms and styles I hadn't even known existed till I decided...
