Array ( [sid] => 162182 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Turtle, Don't Hide. [time] => 2010-09-06 12:18:53 [hometext] => Perhaps you are not meant to be written. [bodytext] => I am a child
curious and confused,
wanting to touch what is forbidden and reach for what i cannot hold.
You are a shelf stacked high on the wall
afraid that i will one day grow to see that your trophies
are only there to distract from the dust.
Afraid that you are plain and
replaceable.

I am a bee
fast and yellow and
not opposed to stinging when i am afraid.
But you are a flower that will not bloom
afraid to be sucked dry and left
with nothing .
Yet i come back to you, waiting
spring after spring after spring.

I am a composer
resting my hands on the keys
I want to play you just right, from the first sigh to the least tear
But you are a song more impossible than any other
with rhythms that change before i can remember how to play them
with notes that always on the verge of something so beautiful
if only i could find the right key.

Perhaps you are not meant to be written.

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 128 [topic] => 22 [informant] => keilantra [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Turtle, Don't Hide.


Turtle, Don't Hide.
Date: Monday, 6th September 2010 @ 12:18:53 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: keilantra
I am a child
curious and confused,
wanting to touch what is forbidden and reach for what i cannot hold.
You are a shelf stacked high on the wall
afraid that i will one day grow to see that your trophies
are only there to distract from the dust.
Afraid that you are plain and
replaceable.

I am a bee
fast and yellow and
not opposed to stinging when i am afraid.
But you are a flower that will not bloom
afraid to be sucked dry and left
with nothing .
Yet i come back to you, waiting
spring after spring after spring.

I am a composer
resting my hands on the keys
I want to play you just right, from the first sigh to the least tear
But you are a song more impossible than any other
with rhythms that change before i can remember how to play them
with notes that always on the verge of something so beautiful
if only i could find the right key.

Perhaps you are not meant to be written.



This poem is Copyright © keilantra


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