Wistful.

Soon the morning will come,

And this will all be a dream.

A lightning thought,

In a floating sea.

Once held in our palms,

Softer than dandelion seeds.

A moment so pure,

Of crushed rose petals and flowing streams.

Red staining white linen and,

Washed down the silken weaves.

But melancholy sings into the elegant night.

It’s stars dim and guard the light.

So, not to escape,

This Neverland sight.

Advertisements

One thought on “Wistful.

Add yours

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: