"He bends above me tonight
Clearly enveloping my sight.
Countless winks entice around me, leaving the slightest ecstasy plummeting through the humid air.
The children danced soundless in array, swish,swish, they fumble to play.
But the stillness you carve settles behind, pressing gently on the cartilage encased around the form of my ear.
The blisters of a mother surrounding her child. I see his slumber is coming to an end.
He flaunts his eyes, organising my rest.
Arching his back he grants access.
The mother now erases the son's aroma.
His lullaby surrounded the atmosphere above.
The prisoners vulnerability held within his palm.
But now it is time to set us free.
For the mother shouts aloud, the sweetness vanishing afar.
We are all awaken and now she stands upright.
Soaking in, her prisoners sight.
The cycle remains of the battle between mother and son.
The people now repeat this war, to them it's means a lot more than a small distance or further than the place called far.
For it is truly the switch of day and night.
The sun is battling, you hear her cries.
The moon is savouring this moment, a measure in miles."
YOU ARE READING
Shattered
Poetry"She held on to the thorn knowing it would prick her, and grabbed on to it's roots knowing she would fall, but the hope that flickered in her eyes always seem to shimmer, nothing demolished it at all, she carved her art on the canvas and set the li...
