Three steps from the wishing well...
Beige hills fuels this somber aura.
Softly bow down my head,
In succession of falling teardrops.
Silver coin dazzle eluded my sadness,
No gazing of any rippled motion,
Glare of sunshine was my companion.
Translucent words within me,
Crystalline and lucid,
Yet a gripping joust deters any utter,
Or repressed remark from these frigid lips.
Sub conscious eager to constrain,
Heartbreak of a time bygone,
Any reprisal assuredly condemned.
No repetition of the past,
Along this dreary reality.
In sequential fashion,
As a mockingbird flew by,
Beam of lucent sunshine was solemnly,
My one and only companion.
(c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.