Her hair lay in huge clumps of whorls,
Her dress hung in tatters on her dwindling frame,
Like a door blasted by the east wind,
On her cheeks she wore rivulets of water,
Her eyes held the tales of unspeakables,
She has lost the zest for life,
She threw her hopes hard down,
Like yesterday's forgotten trash,
Her lips which made the hearts,
Of many a suitors thump with anticipation,
Were listless like a crowd of purposeless people,
Trudging without aim rhyme or rhythm,
They spoke of her in hushed tones,
Then the winds bore the news on bouncy arms,
Singing of lovelorn nights and days,
Still she lay, as still and dull as muddy waters,
Then a whispers filters in, carried in on,
The arms of the hapless grapevine,
A word here and there most likely,
The air wore a blush of roses like a new bride,
The waves sang songs of renewed zeal,
Others would record the changes,
How her eyes came alive like,
Chandeliers blazing for a thousand years.
© sailabby