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by Marcus Edward John Cross, Jan 30, 2008 A surreal, imaginative, heartfelt poem. She stands alone On the windy hilltop, Cold wind blowing through her hair, As all her memories fall Down from the darkened sky, And tears fall from her eyes; Shards like glass, And misunderstandings; The world has gone away, Fallen Into the fire. She stands alone, Contemplating Running away. She stands alone,
Wondering why The world has knocked her down. She stands alone, Remembering The day she died inside, The day her heart stopped beating. And down comes the rain To wash it all away. But oh, Out of nowhere, A golden bird swoops down And lifts her up, Carries her away To another world, Full of orange and blue, Where she sinks down And falls into eternity, Falls into sky;
Falls into herself; Falls into happiness; Falls into everything; And deep down, Right down there at the bottom, Is the purple, And the gold, And the drifting, And the sunshine, And the summer breeze Rustling the trees, And nights spent looking at the moon, And all the things That can never be put into words
