Sarah Elizabeth Clark
Sarah Elizabeth Clark Poems
|42.||Stream Of Conciousness||5/22/2014|
|49.||The Cliche Of The Hourglass And Sand||1/18/2012|
Broken free, the butterfly spreads upon a flower,
Bountiful colors appearing in her flushed wings,
Rustling with the slight, warmest of breezes,
Too fragile to breathe outwards.
Thoughts anything but secret,
Apparent in her skittish movements,
The rocking, frolicking laughter,
Of one whose life is fleeting.
Soaring up and bending down to meet,
The delicate petals and sensual pollen,
Playing the beautiful object that is not held alive,
By anything more than her sunlight companions.
Before you were intelligent you
spouted taught beliefs and ambitions,
you cherub, of all things, apple, puppet.
So long you must have smiled
inside your father’s house
and your mother’s home.
There was a plan,