Flower petals caress her enchanted lips,
Dew drops fallen on the wildest of roses,
She can not keep her heart bound, away from what is her,
As vines and thorns intertwine her soul, it is all theirs.
Singing to the mountains she hears them reply,
There will be another spring, no need to cry.
She pleads to the winter’s frost covered blow,
To allow all the flowers to hum and glow.
So, there she sings to the mountains above,
While her fingertips become the meadow’s final flaw.
She is no longer the snow,
But instead, the winter’s kiss.
Her heart sings I am the sister of spring,
I am the daughter of night,
As well as the promises of another life.
About the Creator
A. Raphael
Poetry is my first love, and writing words onto paper is my therapy. Maybe my submissions will make you feel something, too.
If you find something in my words, then it is my pleasure.
A. Raph
Keep reading
More stories from A. Raphael and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Letter to the Firestarter
Dear Firestarter, We can all see you, we've been watching you since you began. In case you didn't know we were here before you and we will be here after. We witnessed your rise, your setbacks, your guilt and your lies. We witnessed you start the fire.
By Donny Foley5 days ago in Poets
The Piggy Project
I’ve had so many names in this life I lose track of which ones were ever really mine and which ones I wore because someone needed me to. Some were handed to me before I had words to refuse them, before I knew what they meant, before I knew I could say no. Most weren’t meant to hurt. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave marks. Marks that told me who I belong to, who I am by way of who claims me, recognizes me in the good and bad, who walks beside me.
By Fatal Serendipity2 days ago in Confessions
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.