Torn WingsA Poem by .:Arianna:.
Winter can be devastating for the little things...
Winter had approached,
eveything was searching
for a hiding place.
A desperate call to outlive the frost...
I was sitting by the fire,
My darling and I, drinking tea,
warmth and bare desire,
steam twirls up to me.
Our resting heads were light with bliss
we looked out of the window,
into the darkest, cold abyss
that once was a green meadow.
We didn't see the butterfly,
knocking on the glass,
her panting breath and helpless cry,
creating patterns of icy stars.
The twirling wind took one last breath
and blew under her wings,
the butterfly rose high above
and felt a thousand stings.
She then lost every sense and thought
this was her bitter end,
her torn wings of black and white,
no warmth would ever mend.
© 2011 .:Arianna:.
AboutWelcome to my page and thank you for stopping by. I am Arianna, half Dutch, half Greek, half explorer, half philosopher. I was born in Amsterdam but at the age of one I moved with my parents to Greece.. more..
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