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Array
(
[sid] => 149047
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Passing autumn (Crystal's song)
[time] => 2009-04-11 00:18:24
[hometext] => always, abraham
[bodytext] => Untimely white and painted blue walls of hospitals strip her of her dreams, and she considers how easily the hallways scream with the echoes of a dying time—time is always dying at the creation of a new song—and moans with the pain of an old mans eyes settling for the last time on the person he loves. Passing autumn in the garden, she imagines how the roses drink the sunlight, and how the sun yields to the chameleonic sky as it rises to meet the eyes of angels, and how they too lose their luster and descend from on high to diminish in the unimpassioned light of the aurora and her sisters. Bored, she imagines fallen horses springing from the mountains of grave faced stars, braying and laughing at the edges of dilapidated streets while cars cast twinkling deceit onto the sea below, and the eyes of man believe them. Above her, a white sky confesses, and with a troubled heart, she sings of broken blue sidewalk chalk scattered high above and forgotten by the hands of man as centuries of stars gather in her tears. Time is her only love; she has no time, her robes tumbling gently at the infirm caresses of the only one she loves, and her sleep bellows out across nations in his dreams, and her perfumes rise to eddy in the instant that he wakes. The eyes of time condemn him and the valley and fields of her song draw across him, and he does not forget. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 209 [topic] => 21 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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