A barren desert of wind and memories. Memories of what life used to be Of what life used to be like. Once a lush, lively meadow Of Tulips, of Delphiniums Of love and Joy Gradually the meadow of emotion turned to rot To rot, to give way to new emotions. Of loss and of regret, to a kind of despair Scarier than any nightmare. She died, he left and so was I, with nothing at all. And so I began to write to scrawl, to regain A certain sense of control To master these feelings, of love, loneliness and pain And then she came. She came to the meadow, tended to the bulbs As gently as if she were carrying my life in her hands Tending to the meadow as she would a garden It once again began to bloom. Roses and Tulips where rife once again, in the meadow. And once again she dissapeared as suddenly as she had appeared. Another one bites the dust. Dust and sand, and the dry petals of flowers Are all that line my dry dessert meadow
Who has been to a meadow?
