Daisy's

She played her guitar in the rain today
sat on a wooden stool in a field of wet daisy’s
And as she played the words she sung stayed in her head
little blue vines faded in her dress,and every note she strung
echoed heavily inside of her chest.
This is it,playing blind she realized what happened to her life
fingers slipping on the strings,
she played on against the sound of thunder.
Her heart beating slower.
The field so full of life,
yet every flower wilted beneath the darkest clouds up in the sky.
Kicking her sandals off she took a stand,laid her guitar down
and put her face in her hands.
Feet full of mud she splashed not able to hear a sound
nothing but rain,nothing but the passion that burns inside her mind.
fly free. Into the howling wind and over the beautiful blue sea.
dancing by herself in a field of daisy’s around and around
she twirled as her little white dress floated in the storms air.
she matched all the flowers, she found her peace,she found her soul.
passion breaks even the strongest of mankind.
When set free,you breathe in the life nature intended you to live.
the ocean breeze,a snowy mountain top,
pouring rain,or a field of daisy’s.
nature is nature.
Life is life.
We are all the same.
we all have freedom inside of our self’s.
we walk it,talk it,and if we ever get lucky.
Maybe for once we can live it.
Playing on.

  • Paul Thompson

    Paul Thompson

    Great writing … indeed, play on. Well done Kimberleigh. :-)

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