Confectioneries simply cannot compare, in boldness or texture to your hair.
It is becoming, like the sun-burnt sand on a beach, overseen by golden sky-
Clouds like dreams, looking down from above, a color white tinged by red.
As intriguing as it is, I can't look for very long, about which I have to wonder why.
Did God not want us to marvel at his creation? Did he want us to be injured by its brilliance?
It must be a metaphor for something more, something within the soul of man, and yet I try;
I take it glimpse at a time, in the hopes it will catch my glances and someday remember me.
And within those moments I think there is no hope, I have no choice but to give out a cry.
YOU ARE READING
The View From Above
PoetryThis is a book full of feelings. maybe they aren't my feelings, maybe sometimes they are. If you read it, try to relate to the feelings being portrayed. We'll see what happens.
