She sits on the windowsill
Looking out the window
The shell of a hermit
Peering out its hiding hole
The rain is a soothing sound
Drawing her closer to the glass
Hands pressed against coldness
Looking at the face that stares back
Alone is a curious word
Yet lonely is yet more sad
For alone is a single person in peace
And lonely is a lone person in despair
Her voice starts soft
Whispers of the wind
Wavering tendrils of the spiderweb
Barely holding on to each other
A forceful smile
A held back sob
A tear caressing the side of her face
A rain drop slides down the cold glass
She rants now
Ugly hateful words
Disfiguring their beauty
Countless and endless
Thunder rumbles, lightning flashes
The essence of her anger
The storm of reality
Battering her glass windows with rain
Then she stops, and all can be heard
Is only the rain
Her laboured breathing
One rough and one calm
Wish upon a star, they say
And your wish will come true
But where is my star, she thinks
When will my wish come true?
Alas her fate, cruel mocking tongues
Piercing her fragile glass shell
And there is no one to hear her pleads
But only the sound of the rain
Talking to the Rain never helps
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of The Rose
PoetryA. Ton. Of. Random. Poems. Just warning you. The poem that inspired the title of this book: Tears of the Rose A rose Is a prickly thing Armed with barbed thorns Stinging like thousands of merciless Bees that hover protectively Over their prize. Rose...
