That once, in winter, when her heart was young,
She felt the world outside / inside the same;
The season when her soul’s true songs were sung,
And bitterness was still outside the frame
Who sees the girl? The woman’s been her fate,
And all that’s left of winter is the cold;
The day is dark, the hour’s growing late,
So much she’s felt, not meant to be controlled –
Sometimes, it’s not the heart that breaks, but more:
The part of her that lived for bigger cause,
The ashes of the fire come before,
The cynic from the idealist that was
A girl so in to everything
Who gave that up for “reasons” —
She cannot bring December back
For she’s lost all
Her seasons
This is the best poem I read in this afternoon.
Made me smile and my coffee tasted nice.
Very beautiful, my friend!
(✿◠‿◠)
Thanks! 🙂
Yes. But.. how does a guy know this?
Listening, mostly.
🙂 Listeners are 9/10 of anyone’s victory.
🙂
This is great. Have you seen La La Land? It illustrates the artist’s struggle with managing dreams and disappointments similarly.