April 19, 2009
More by this author
A soft hazy light sifts down from the trees,
Lethargically shining on plains through the leaves,
A child sits slowly in the smooth meadow field,
And in his hand a blade of grass he does wield,
He twirls it about, then he lets it go,
And tied to it are his dreams and his hopes,
The mirage of a world he once believed in,
Is shattered as his life deceives in,
The innocence and ignorance he once used as his shield,
Now break and now shatter with each knowledge revealed,
He played in the field but now he must go,
Down lives treacherous winding country road,
So he follows the grass that wind slowly blows,
Whispering “lead me to a place that I’ll finally know”,
Where the truth is the truth,
And a lie, is a lie,
And then, only then will I really know why.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback