Oh you think why would she care,
Standing on the beach,
Feeling the breeze touch her,
The sea washing her bony feet,
With tousled hair across her face,
Oh yeah, but she had to care,
Care about her loved ones even in this moment of tranquility, she could feel the tension rising.
How are they? What might they be doing? What if anybody got hurt?
But then she remembers she is on holiday from now and forever,
The worries that have kept her tethered were gone, long gone.
She was the last of survivors of good in the world,
Each peaceful mind destroyed and corrupted from the wealth and loathe.
She has a beautiful mind. A kind and generous heart, difficult to reach but easy to break. A great samaritan, true of her words.
She want to change it all the greed in people, the loathe through the most magnificent way, her art. The combination of the colours in a canvas that says thousands of words without even saying anything. The shade of rose-gold shade mixing with that of dark colour, brown with a different tint of blue and white. She knew it was all mixed up in her head. But she also knows, she won't go on a holiday neither from her life nor from her goal no matter if her loved ones have forgotten her.
She has to be the first to be the one to change others heart.
YOU ARE READING
Out Of The Blue Poems
PoetryPoems and Proses, Showered with roses, Better than the moses And clattering tosses. Come in, Read There's a way it will lead, Maybe too deep So let it seep In the depths of heart, In the beauty of smart... ----- Simple proses could be seen as poems ...
