Your Finest Hour
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“Your Finest Hour”
pour a paint can
from isolation
a heart torn
blood spills Red
on the crushed White empty now
absorbed in the mother vein
Stop.
a tall tree, Green, waiting,
so is life and dreams
she always speaks
of a beautiful future
fresh, romantic notions
words are always running diamond Silver streams
of something always better, Golden,
Bright Blue skies -
what was lost
was stolen,
to somehow be retrieved
not now red apples rolling
down the mountain
climbed long and hard
bitter seeds,like bricks held
in an apron,
red apples scattered
rolling to an Ocean
Time.
What is worthy in the future
is worth something now;
“Look in thy glass and tell
the face thou viewest
now is the time that face
should form another”
from the broken
Tarot Tower
"...calls back the lovely
April of her prime"
thou art thy mother’s glass
and she in thee
stops at Red and reads
your painted codex, stoic
emblazoned with potent power
Silenced,
in this dark time
and proud
dear daughter,
winning the Game
in this,
your finest hour
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
for my daughter, Georgia
with love,
your mother.
"and now our parents are long departed
who can finish the songs they started?”
Artwork: Georgia Murcell
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2020
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