She always kept some kind of hushed, dark secret hidden away
in her mind.
Her eyes, once bright enough to match the sun, were still
beautiful, but dull and a lot dimmer, like an Old Victorian Amethyst.
She watched the sheltered purple finch fly away after a long
winter, but her thoughts stayed in her mind much longer than the bird was held
captive by the cold.
Things were so much better before the silent nostalgia of
how life used to be crept into her head.
But sometimes she hears a private evensong, something that reminds
her of why she is still breathing.
And she remembers that the hardest comes just before dawn
Tranquility paints a welcoming white over her dark cloud.
Love your use of color to interpret feelings that are hard to explain
ReplyDeleteI love this one, too--I can see this woman. I can even imagine being her and feeling these same things really, I know how powerful (and in many ways destructive) that "silent nostalgia" can be...
ReplyDelete