The lady with the glass heart

Her eyes are cast down,
Those beautiful delicate eyes,
To balance that horrendous hat of hers
On top her head.
A gaudy plume masks her chiffon curls
And sharpens her features tightly and harshly.
With your face down like that, my dear, you won’t know where to go!
Still, blindly and stony, she goes on her way,
Until one unfortunate, or rather very fortunate day,
She collides-
right into the firm chest of a gentleman!
His classy pocket watch that he was grasping
until it lands on the wet pavement with a clang.
Abashed and with a dappled blush,
Our young lady leans down to pick it up
Only to look into warm cinnamon eyes
that reach into her glass heart.
And then her hat
Until it rests to join the watch on the wet pavement.
Her hair, freed from those dreadful, aching curls,
Willows around her upturned face-
The same tender shade as those cinnamon eyes.

About everburningcinders

So so...where to start? Well, for starters, I can say that I'm one of those kinds of people that don't care about their hair, or desperately need another pair of shoes. In fact, if you see me, you wouldn't notice me at all. I'm just the shadow, sticking to the walls, head buried in a book or eyes glazed over in a daydream. I want to be listened to and I want to be appreciated. My moral in life: Life is life. Believe in it and suck it up. I look forward to meetin' ya all!
Aside | This entry was posted in Poetry, Random, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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