October

Cool wind breezes through an open window.
Raindrops fall plinking on metal blinds.
Drapes billowing about, she stands looking out.
Walking through an open door,
She blindly steps out onto the balcony.

Oblivious to the cold late October rain
Soaking through her gown, she stares.
Through the torrents the tails of willow trees dance,
As small pools of water form on the well-beaten dirt path.

No sound through the fog is heard.
No creature stirs in the mists.
Not an echoing thunder of hooves is to be perceived
There is nothing but the even pitter-patter
Of rain sounding lightly on the tin roof.

Her vigil continues as the mists lift to reveal
A road winding gently up a slowly sloped mountain lane.
Bright colors celebrate the changing of seasons,
Slowly swirling to the mossy, earthen floor.
But lo, she takes no pleasure in the beauty.
She curses times passage.

Liquid emotions stream down her porcelain cheeks,
Framed by locks the color of a raven’s wing.
Born in haunted emerald eyes, to die on the pale rose prospect of her pouted
lips-
The invention of memories skittering about in her conscious,
The product of a tormented mind...

Ok guys- i'm not certain if I'm finished with this poem. I have some ideas
of how to add on to this but if you have any suggestions I'd love to hear
them. kthx.
 
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