Walls of Pastel

[Echoed]

7th of January, 2002.


[font=Verdana]I slaughtered the whim of my sloth,
The day before the last.
It was horrid indeed, by troth!
I'd laughed at my pink past
And fallen o'er my mother's words
As she told me, "No, child,"
Though I'd wanted t' see those wee birds
On trees of branches wild.
But it was never to be here;
She was not to transgress.
Hers was a girl's ultimate fear,
Where e'en clouds could aggress.
How sad the day when I would fall,
While slipping from her hands
As she told me of Heavens' call
And their white hourglass sands.[/font]


~Echo.-[font=Arial]Noct.[/font]

[FadingAway]

That belongs in a poetry book with Frost and Thoreau! Beautiful use of word choice, structure, and imagery! Well done!

[goku]

Hahaha... Good job Echoed!

You never cease to amaze me!

[Echoed]

I'm just digging up old things. ^_^' This was written over a year ago.

Thank you for your words. They are really very appreciated.

~Echo.