Zoe Guillory Poems

Tiny, brown, innocent eyes
that have only seen the world for a year
peer over the cheep, run-down wood
as gentle, yet clumsy fingers
...

Reach out and rewind your clock before
it melts away like the flow
of crimson from a dying animal
that slowly loses its color,
...

I sit quietly under the trees, staring at my barrier of leaves.
They whisper against each other, telling me the stories
of a long-forgotten past. Of a world many generations ago,
that housed a very different people.
...

I am afraid of the Darkness and the Light,
the Eyes that lurk behind the Trees of Honesty,
waiting to catch our Mistakes.
I am afraid that the End may be near,
...

Ans so we lay there, under the dark sky, waiting
for the Sun to wake up the world. We were drifting
apart, but we still held hands and I watched the stars die
as you watched the Sun being born. And no one spoke.
...

Murky water like the thick inky blackness of a night
without stars. Without Hope. Silence pushing down.
So heavy the branches of the trees his the ground.
The leaves rotted while still green. Holding on.
...

Like tiny broken birds. Broken wings, broken hearts.
Trapped under the fallen leaves of Autumn. Cold air.
Like the dawn sky on the first morning of the new Spring.
Soft and pink. Loving, gentle. Unmistakably innocent.
...

For we have all become intruders in this place we call home.
Once a timeless Eden, a trashpile of war and lust.
Fresh waters and endless forest have all been thrown.
Thrown up in the air, only to fall. Dead leaves.
...

I sat alone, watching the children
pass by holding hands
with their parents and pointing
eagerly at the tiger.
...

She turned and drew a smiley face
in the corner of my paper. She wrote
it upside-down. It smiled up at me.
I erased it.
...