Her Destiny
_______________________________
"This poem is not about what is written, but what is not written."
Was it you
who called butterflies
of white diamond flight
in resurrection of soul
unable to find
To you my poor lady
whom eyes favor shown
why must belief
fall in rains doom
Could it be in despair
the naked tree weep in song
o how her pastel love
in silence had simply gone
But, to find lovely boughs
to whom her love drape
must my hand reach distant
for painful tear, I must take..
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Poet ~ Rick Parise
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2011
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