The Sunken Pearl-

Standing in solitude by a flowing meadow,
Feeling my heartbeat racing to the breeze.
The thoughts of what I want and who I am,
Are churning with a fierce electricity.

I am a static charge clashing from the clouds,
I am a matchstick inflamed only to blacken.
I am a candle consuming, breathing thin air,
Until a breath blows me into the darkness.

I’m an elderly boot that’s gathered miles of dirt.
I’m a tarnished bullet discharged onto the ground.
I am but one raindrop splattering upon the soil.
I am a rusted key which has lost it’s lock.

I’m a withered tulip frozen from snow,
My roots shivering to bitterest death.
I am a clock that is broken in time,
Still, weary, uncertain of the future,
Here I stand, deeply hurt by Love’s toils.

Strolling alone in knee high golden straw,
Pondering pains of lost hearts in the world,
Entranced by the clamshell horizons I saw,
With light shimmering from the sunken pearl.
Here I stand, deeply hurt by Love’s toils.

The Sunken Pearl-

Robert Dye

Portland, United States

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poem

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  • lianne
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