The Hue Of Pressed Voids Poem by Scott J. Shepard

The Hue Of Pressed Voids



Somber tones didn't make it easier,
but she never understood why her tears
wouldn't lay sight to sleeping grounds
while only her wounds would grow.

In the midst of merging dew she remembers blossoms.
Somber tones didn't make it easier
and she would ask why cradled hands
were only wasted within a tempests single wish.

Bloomed drops of somewhere's lit window,
her body could move to embrace warm suns,
lent along the savors of first airs,
as her eyes gathered hints upon forced pries,
heavy breath whispering early dawn.

But fervor hadn't lasted to warm airs,
just the embrace of broken goodbyes that gathered
somewhere. Lent the hum songbird for a Lord to keep,
just a moment of heavy breath she could not bear.

Somber tones didn't make it easier,
but she never understood why her tears
wouldn't lay sight to sleeping grounds
while only wounds would grow.

Saturday, January 28, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: mother and child
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success