A girl twirls around in a pale blue dress,
with flowers in her hair
She's in the middle of a forest
In a meadow far from home
Her sweet, high laugh, rings through the air
The birds all sing along
The green grass wraps around her ankles
Like the ribbons on a ballet slipper.
The wind wisps through her golden curls
Making them fly out behind her
A deer looks at her with big dark eyes
Rabbits hop along
A crystal stream runs softly by
Fish jump and leap about
And the sun glows down on this perfect scene,
The perfect girl
The perfect beasts
The perfect rocks, and flowers, and trees
But then a shadow covers the light
The flowers wilt and die
The birds fall silent
The deer runs off
The rabbits flee to hide
The water dries up
Leaving nothing but an empty grave
The wind turns cold and stormy
It whips against the girl
The little girl runs away from there
Brambles tear her dress
Red eyes peek out behind the trees
A howl echoes from the wood
Tears roll down the girl's soft face
Where dirt has now found a home
She runs and runs
And runs and runs
Until she finds her family's house outside the wood
But her home is empty
Silent
Scary
Her family's left it bare
She sinks on to the floor
Too weak to even care
Wind pushes against the walls
And finds a way into the house
She thinks of her mother, her father
Her sisters, her brothers
Why had they left her here alone?
With nothing but an empty house
No family
No belongings
No love
The wind finally wins it's battle
The walls go tumbling down
And now the girl is left
Exposed
Nothing to save her now
Why had she left her home, to begin with?
For the perfect, tranquil forest
Why had she left the only thing she had?
The beauty of the meadow had lured her in
With promises of a better life
With pretty flowers
Innocent animals
Peaceful winds and waters
The girl sits there shaking
As the wind destroys everything around her
The wind that once had played with her
In a beautiful meadow
That beautiful, sweet, meadow
She should never have gone there
Because sometimes
Beautiful, perfect things
Aren't always as they seem
YOU ARE READING
Is There Such Thing As Perfect?
PoetryIs There Such Thing As Perfect? Is there? I'm being brave and doing something new. I don't write poems but a lot of them have come into my mind recently. They may not be perfect, they may not be great, they may not be amazing, they may not even be a...
