There was
Someone
Frantically playing piano upstairs,
Filling the air
With reverberations
Of a beautiful type of chaos,
When
She
Walked into my periphery.
She was Coloured in
Lavender;
A long skirt
That
Didnt
Quite
Meet
The bottom of her shirt,
So that
The colour of
Porcelain
Was able
To catch my eye,
her
Chestnut hair
Singed pink on the edges
By the decisions of
A well aged
Youthfulness.
I saw her
And watched her,
from a distance,
Not knowing
If she noticed or cared,
And all of this
Was in the span of maybe a
few short minutes
Where time was kind enough
To slow down a little,
So I could imagine what
her smile
must have looked like.
YOU ARE READING
Melancholia
Poetrypoetry takes us to so many places, and we take poetry to so many places. here are poems about places, and sometimes the people found in them.
