perpetual
By jvriesema
- 252 reads
Windchimes softly echo through the breath of a northern wind;
the boughs of trees answering in unison to the whispers of doves
as dreams hesitate amongst the scattering of leaves.
The quiet of the sky becomes a glance for winter-drawn clouds
like curtains folding in on themselves upon windows in the current of the wind.
Light becomes grey in quiet solitude
as paths are chased by swallows amongst the lines of barren branches;
trees reaching for the motion of love amongst the wings of life.
Windows become light with conversations
that dwell in the heart of the soul
becoming fluid in the motion of gestures;
words searching for the breath of a glance.
Love remembered trips
over itself
and chases the swallows reaching for the boughs of barren branches;
perpetual motion winding its way through the wind;
iceland juxtapositioned in my heart's eye with the sound of windchimes;
an echo of love.
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