There is peace awaiting purpose, Calmness coursing through your stride. A pensive and predestined journey, Reflective expedition designated, Originally for you. Motivation takes over You shudder to think of, Arriving at the finish line. Spasms churn your inner being, Utopia seems so blurry and vague. Do comprehend that, You must relish this transitory median. Dance like the nonchalant gypsy, Numb to torrential rain. Savour the jovial waves, Crashing alongside your dampened feet. Or bask in instantaneous glory, Of witnessing the first star, From the deepening twilight. Hold on to your serenity. May it grip you, As the mighty talon of an eagle, Whilst you are precisely woven, Into the fabric of fate. Monica St Hillaire, 2021
Away from a barren desert, Near the crystalline waterfall. The meadow is my median, Amidst their silence and roar, Courage I will find.
As the petals undulated, Beneath immobile clouds, Transparent was the mountain top. Through the wind and sunshine, Endurance I will hold.
Daylight spontaneously evanesced, A Thrush perched in the distance. I rose, frisked myself in stride, Between the song and dance, Fearlessness I will shout. (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2021.
( photos by pixabay)
An olive branch I extend, Meet me at the corner, round the bend. My pride seemed so effortless, Complex to adjust. I compromised our union, Faded is your trust. Shattered your heart, won't pretend, Meet me at the corner, round the bend. Anger consumed inside me, This error now clear. Refuse to speak in past tense, Of love we both share. Weary soul, faith I can lend, Meet me at the corner, round the bend. Is this the last dance my love? Never can it be. Fairytales last a lifetime, Like the sand and sea. Disheartened spirits on the mend, Meet me at the corner, round the bend. (c) Monica St Hillaire, 2020.
IF I COULD DANCE ON THE MOON,
I’D WEAR A DRESS OF WHITE.
BRIGHTEN EVEN MORE,
THAT LUSTROUS LIGHT.