Her Tailor...

Dirty floors and dusty corners, low light lingers and she wonders…
" … why am I here?…"
My dress is torn and when I was born, no one wanted my name.
If it’s all the same and when it’s you, you’ll know that I’m speaking truth, I say….
Are the mice around or away at play?
And Mother, why still today do you not know who I am?
.
She stood still in the silence.
Every question in life floating by as particle dust…
Was there ever a love to find and was He real or just…
Nothing more then a memory.
.
Were my journey in vain and my hopes not moved by the Wind?
Wondering still, she stood in time, watching article lights become rhyme…
Answering back as a sound in her mind. She read on…
.
Who follows in the hallow of this song?
Who calls from corridors long gone and what of the Sound?
The corners are dusty and the light is low to the ground; she could hear her own echo as she spoke out loud…
“…Why am I, hear?…do I belong, tHere?…”
Tell me… the color of my hair.
.
A door in the wall made visible became open as her eYes lifted…
Her skirt began the swirl and a breeze sift through her curls
“… Girl needs a Tall Taler, He said…”

Her Tailor...

IzzyGumbo

Joined October 2009

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 6

Artist's Description

it’s a ramble….
ample sample of my insanity.

Artwork Comments

  • eon .
  • IzzyGumbo
  • IzzyGumbo
  • eon .
  • IzzyGumbo
  • IzzyGumbo
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