Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
What can bring darkened thoughts,
When I'm staring at this sky?
What dark reverie can dissolve the light,
Brought by that blue sky?

The bright rays of gold and paled blue,
Are painted with a gentle turn of wrist.
The green grass below,
Is dappled with gold reflections of the sun.

From a windowsill,
I watch it slowly melt the black,
Of the midnight's glow,
With stretching wings.

Light paints the colors of dawn,
Like an artist slowly creating a perfect drawing.
I watch silently,
By the windowsill.

That sky brings hope,
And in these moments,
Dark rays can be swept away.

The bright colors of that sky,
Are like ribbons of gold.
Watching from my room,
I can see dawn repaint a once dark sky.

The silver-ribboned clouds are now cotton-shaped.
With a gentle tune ringing by as I hum,
I'll step from here to there in some time,
And watch the remaining few flowers lift tired faces toward the sun.

In the Winter,
Trees can only reach a crooked hand upward,
Not yet bearing blossoms and bloom.
Still, the gold shines through their empty branches,
Through an empty canopy,
To cover their forms.

To paint this to image,
I write these words.
The vividness is bright and happy,
Without worry,
A sketching  of beauty.
Part three of the old work I am uploading.
No comments have been added yet.

Add a Comment:
 
×

:icondaisyhart: More from DaisyHart


More from DeviantArt

Doctor WhoHurtling through time and space,
                                                     Can he ever find a place?
                                             Jumping forward to a brand new earth,
                                                Jumping back to an empty hearth.
                                             Forward again to see the Face of Boe,
                                                 Back in time to meet an old foe.
                                               He is pursued by an incessant fact,
                                              The likes of which he can't take back.
                                               His entire home, his people his soul,
                                               All gone, leaving him without a goal.
                                                   The last of the Time Wars,
                                                        The end of his kind,
                                                   He is trapped b


Details

Submitted on
January 3, 2013
File Size
1.5 KB
Link
Thumb

Stats

Views
34
Favourites
0
Comments
0

License

Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
×