The runner
by Cookie
Soon I will be here no more
You’ve heard my Tale
Through my songs
Through my voice and words
Wondering…
Shall I write again
That what I have
Begun in time
A candle is flickering up my head
The runner in the night
He thanks you for the light
Where should I walk again?
Wondering…
With eyes of ice
I’ll not be here
So high above the world
Where shall I go?
I haven’t searched
My own path too
Don’t follow me
To the rivers of tears
Wondering…
About the light from your eyes
How do you paint this sky
And the stars which are
Glowing above you
You’ll hear again
This poetry in time
Through my writing
Through my words…
"If you read this line, remember not the hand that wrote it.Remember only the verse, songmaker`s cry, the one without tears"
RăspundețiȘtergere-old words-
cookie
I remember the hand though. It was a rather peculiar hand: it had 7 finger and a toe. Each finger had 5 nails, done in all the colors of the rainbow. The hand smelled sweet, like sweet corn and fresh sheets and sparrows flying low which means it's going to be a rainy day. It was a silent hand, though its silence was in many languages, I recognized some altaic idiomas, but what it said, or rather what it not said, I couldn't say.
RăspundețiȘtergereIt wrote poetry, small talk poetry that thinks itself to be great and sad, the kind you read 10 years after and you feel ashamed or you laugh out loud, or you wonder: were have you gone, where's that boy or girl that wrote that stuff c'mon, there's gotta be something left, but I forgot where I put it.
It was a nice little hand, peculiar in its commonness.