From the Ground Up- lesson four |
Elusive Imaginings ...like feathers on the wind... A fragile figment flutters softly down, landing with grace but not a single sound. Feather soft, it sits on the barren page awaiting my pen, which will craft its stage. Pen, hand as one begin to form and shape; fashioning the scene designing the drape. Fair figment hovers on the gentle breeze, created by pen strokes flowing with ease. Then a darkened cloud suddenly takes form; strong blowing wind it's threatening to storm. I grasp at the figment but it takes flight before I can grasp, it is gone from sight. I wait in the darkness holding my pen; hoping the notion will arrive again. But it is gone β this I must consent. My figment has flown, folded up its tent. Elusive imaginings float on the wind. When one flutters by, I'll begin again. Quatrain poem (unedited) I watch as you mature bright and demure watching you flourish time that I cherish. Never one to dwell On that final farewell to the love oh so decaying that needed slaying now you sit full of fire not yet ready to retire head way up high nothing left to deny just like an epiphany oh my beautiful tiffany your eyes are glistening angels are truly listening Quatrain poem (edited) I watch as you mature; bold and bright and demure. Watching as you flourish, is time that I cherish. Never one to dwell on that final farewell to the love; so decaying, ever needed slaying. Now you sit full of fire, not ready to retire. Head tall and way up high; nothing left to deny. Like an epiphany! My beautiful Tiffany; your eyes are glistening. Angels are listening! |