Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Gathering Flowers for Sister

Little girls are suppose to gather flowers
And run with them unto their mothers
Holding sacred fathoms of the wellspring  
Listen, the chapel’s golden bells ring
Three and three and three...  times three.
 
Fate too,  notes time’s decree
That numbered seasons shall not come free
And so begins the slow attrition
Of youth’s steps stolen of their fruition
And adolescent spires  - ravaged forms.
 
A young maiden sets upon the storms
So to cross the twisted deforms
Her sweet nature contorted by pains
Prepubertal limbs twisted into chains
And yet, the beast could not have her grace.
 
While death stole away her place;
Her flower’s petals keep a lovely face
Always at the edge of the horizon’s sunrise
And the end of the day - across the night skies
When now a little girl gathers eternity’s hours.

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