Sometimes a Bruise
Cold and warm flow through my soul,
attributed to my memories,
anticipations from the mold.
I glimpse those memories now and then,
except when a sweet wind sweeps me up.
But she is weak and drops her burden, and moves along.
I watch the purple luminescence dissipate
as she flies to find another lake.
In mine, she would not, could not dwell.
Sometimes a quiet still erupts in silent leaves of treesβ
and silky air caresses me in a hint of breeze.
Something quiet has caught my eye.
Something in the sky does smile.
And then she comes and stirs the leaves,
and weaves them into a mid-air, flowing tapestry.
She wears the rain to wash the world,
and brings the sun to me.
attributed to my memories,
anticipations from the mold.
I glimpse those memories now and then,
except when a sweet wind sweeps me up.
But she is weak and drops her burden, and moves along.
I watch the purple luminescence dissipate
as she flies to find another lake.
In mine, she would not, could not dwell.
Sometimes a quiet still erupts in silent leaves of treesβ
and silky air caresses me in a hint of breeze.
Something quiet has caught my eye.
Something in the sky does smile.
And then she comes and stirs the leaves,
and weaves them into a mid-air, flowing tapestry.
She wears the rain to wash the world,
and brings the sun to me.