Abandoned 'Till Holy Light

[tinkerbell]

Abandoned 'Till Holy Light

She swings her small legs,
Staring at the grass below.
No sounds falls except for the steady beat of her necklace falling back agianst her chest,
Keeping time of each rythimic movement.

Her breath frosts pale and ghostly agianst the night air,
Her round brown eyes ever thoughtful.
Bronze braids ripple over small shoulders,
So young to be alone.

The stage is set,
No other has the floor.
The stage is set,
Only her rapid thoughts the applause.

Her skin is so very pale to the point of being translucent,
The small blue veins in easy view.
Small and blossoming hands tighten around the swings chains,
Chronically curling and uncurling agianst the cold metal.

A voice breaks the fragile glass of imagination,
And all is changed.
Gone is the grass; only a carpet of black.
She is no longer in peaceful isolation.

Her hand is roughly clasped and she is jerked up,
The necklace's beat is shattered and corrupted.
Impaciently and angrily, the woman jerks her to follow.
Small feet franctilly fly to compete as the woman releases her and runs.

So soft was the illusion,
The little girl sits suddendly and paciently.
So much more welcoming the dellusions,
For her mother will be right back here.

The comotion fades, and her large eyes blurr.
Lost in rich imagination she reisdes,
Thinking her mother is seeking her as if in the game hide-and-seek.
Restlessly, she waits.

She waits alone, until her illusion tires.
Her small head lifts up, and she can see things of the real.
It all straches for miles, and she also tires of the game.
Her patience is lost and she wails for her mother.

Abandoned by her mother,
The string of love and warmth sliced.
Abandoned by her innocence,
For it is no longer a silent crowd in her eyes.

Peaceful abandon, no such thing.
Peacefull illisions, crowd in the ring.

Mother? Mama?
The mind cries with the rapid and paniced thought.
She reaches her hands out to the world,
And nothing.

Nothing, until a tall man in white.
Nothing, until he holds her in his arms tight.
Forever, there is the shining of the Lords light.
Forever, there is hope in all dim and bright.

By unknown author




tinkerbell

[Mario]

Wow Tink.

       Marco