On Seeing A Young Girl In Spring
Soft hair blowing,
flowing. Golden.
Golden glowing,
blowing without a care.
Catching sunlight.
Bouncing, warm bright,
shining back just right.
Gleaming fire. Young, light hair.
No soft touch for me,
no careless brush
given light, and free.
So long since a breast seen bare.
Too far the years,
and with the years,
too many tears.
Love left, none to spare.
And, yet, young hair blowing,
softly glowing,
gently flowing,
Moves old heart to care.
flowing. Golden.
Golden glowing,
blowing without a care.
Catching sunlight.
Bouncing, warm bright,
shining back just right.
Gleaming fire. Young, light hair.
No soft touch for me,
no careless brush
given light, and free.
So long since a breast seen bare.
Too far the years,
and with the years,
too many tears.
Love left, none to spare.
And, yet, young hair blowing,
softly glowing,
gently flowing,
Moves old heart to care.
posted by Shawn at 4/10/2006 02:43:00 PM
2 Comments:
Absolutely beautiful. It's nice to see something waiting in the secret blog! Am I allowed to ask what it's about, or will that ruin the poetry?
So secret, I forget it's here sometimes!
It was just something I thought when I saw a cute girl walking on the sidewalk.
I had been listening to and reading Beckett for the last couple of days and had just heard an audio clip of Bono giving a speach in the style of Beckett, hence the attempt at Beckett style.
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