Dusty lavender threads
Lay on a pale blue sky.
Over the Med dark clouds
Bank to the horizon.
She cannot see the pink,
Tissue-paper thin haze
Winter sun spreads
Over crumpled land.
She cannot hear the call
Of song birds skipping
Through pine branches
Seeking echoes.
She is cold and grey
Like a November rain
Weeping on window panes
Or lumpy February slush.
Lost in an inner dream
Of summer sunshine,
She turns over rocks,
And forgets to breathe.
unbuttoned or undone 
What a wonderful poem, Emmy.
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Thanks Al, I am pleased that you liked it.
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I do 🙂
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Happy New year dear friend, hope you have been well.
Great poem
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Happy New Year to you too my friend. And thank you.
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Une allegorie magique.
Personne n’ecrit comme toi, vraiment.
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Merci tu es toujours tres positif et gentil.
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My new year’s “resolution” is to try to remember to breathe…
Wonderful sad beauty here.
Best wishes for 2014
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Breathing is good 😉
Rien que du bonheur pour 2014!
Thank you. There is something sad about the Med these days. Winter is just not her color!
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It’s good to see you back, em.
rjb
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Thanks Jim.
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Ah, but she’s not frozen over and buried under 3ft of snow. Loved the poem, Emm.
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No, She’s not frozen, thank goodness for small mercies!
But it is damp, grey, often windy and plain cold in houses built for summer.
But it is the Med, so she’s beautiful anyway, even when she doesn’t think so…
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