I still remember waking with the sun,
Eager to breathe the beauty of the day,
Running barefoot through grass still kissed with dew,
Then lying on it face upturned to gaze
into a sky of neverending blue.
The sun beat warm and steady in my chest,
A flower pulsing rhythm with the world.
That flower withered, petals blackening.
The child died, a sorrowed phoenix rose,
Its heart a heap of ash and caustic tears,
And now become a cold and pitted orb,
No rhythm has it kept for many years.
The sun has fled, the grass a nest of thorns.
I lie inside, eyes shuttered to the world.
© 2014 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
Featured in The Sisterhood
On the changes wrought by life.