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Just a poem in a story. Related to an old couple.
A little lass not yet a woman,
Easily distracted, loveless, and none to judge
Found herself in the constant Thought of a lad.
Not yet a man. More than a mere boy.
A lad. Sweet, tender, and kind.
He seemed her other half. Her only true.
What perfection in her eager eyes.
They soon became a one.
His arms like walls, caressing her heart with tender love and care.
Her heart would swell at any hello, smile, or sound of his mere presence.
Then came the rain, like crushing daggers, tearing at their bond.
Too obligated for her. Too busy for her.
She felt distant. A wilting lily left out in a thunder storm.
Her heart grew weak, and his distance grew great.
Men tried to swoon the young lass into their greedy arms.
And steal her from his eye.
He grew angry and distasteful.
The pain so much to bear that even as she pushed the greeds away,
He pushed her back with accusation and conflict.
And left.
Left her in a rain of crushing daggers.
Her heart left in soul mending. She was broken.
Nothing to do but wait until someone would find this broken lass.
And maybe bring her hope again.
 Jasper Ceiro · Fri Apr 03, 2009 @ 09:29pm · 0 Comments |
