Memory

She lies softly in the brown-grassed field,
With a sigh, looks up at the blank sky,
Despairing what this lonely time will yield—
Shall she live in pain, or in bliss, die?

Breezes flow gently over her, making her chill,
Calling her longing, chained spirit to flee the flesh,
To join the air, leave life behind, to be of free will
To fly above existence, to find spring renewed, refreshed...

She slowly closes her eyes
Succumbing to a daydream
And here her spirit flies
There she finds a voice to scream

But then she recalls soft hands laced with her own,
Gentle, smiling lips quietly brushing against her rosy pair,
A torturous ghost loved her, oh, fool, she should’ve known!
His memory haunts her; restless, she awakes in despair

She rises limply, purposeless
She found no pleasant redress
For her perpetual aimlessness;
Just renewal for distress...