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Rated: E · Poetry · Inspirational · #1696557
One of the first poems I ever wrote but never shared with anyone.
Out a window,
down some steps,
over the giant wall,
lay a village
neither great
nor small.

Its people sleep,
trapped in the sand man's bind,
dreaming dreams
that are neither harsh
nor kind.

The cattle silent,
the herds asleep,
the sky goes unkissed
by the sun
on head
nor cheek.

Gently,
the sun does creep,
peeking out,
from hidden hold,
to wake the sky from sleep.

A rooster crow,
sounding off to the sky,
awakens the village from slumber,
man, woman,
and child.

Life restored,
to this peaceful town,
a breath,
so big,
a person could drown.

Everyone greets everyone else
as the town starts to live,
nothing seems to be amiss,
and there have been
no tragedies
to fix.

This peaceful town,
gets more energetic by the hour,
starts to become more vibrant,
as the day grows old,
and the whispers of wind
sing of ages now told.

The day has all but grown,
only twice its age
and then some,
while still this village
will be able
to ever last
every step untold.

Old age
finally comes
and captures the sun
forcing it back
into its hidden hold
for another run.

The village returns into sleep
without resistance
as the moon does rise
and sings its lullaby
to the countryside
as it's absorbed in
silence.
© Copyright 2010 Alexia Wynd (ramblingbard at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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