| Poetry by Tess continued... |
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| SUMMER Far from the highland Of warmwood in the lake, It�s a time for singing Yet it�s near daybreak. We walk in the dew and pick juicy berries, Beautiful flowers, And the reddest of cherries. Then at night, We watch the fireflies as they take flight, Weaving olden dances, mingling hands and mingling glances. Feel the moonlight on your face And the stars disappear without a trace. A cricket sings And an angel touches you with her wings. It�s time to sleep and dream of tomorrow. Forget you trouble and your sorrow. |
| PLOW The hard ground keeps a secret. It�s a metal wall holding you back. Feed the need to find this secret and make the world more simple and true. The dirt is now soft and the truth spills into the horse�s eyes. A crop grows and a farmer smiles. Color breaks the wall. A weapon is forgotten. |
| ALCOHOLISM I fear the brown bottle sitting on the table. I know its name, but I don�t say it. I know its purpose, but I don�t confront it. While I look with my mind, he grabs it. These childish actions rip into my stomach and my soul and squeeze all life from their inside. A fun loving mind in the day becomes a nuisance at night And the bottle results in painless Utopia. The papers full of lies buildup on the desk hidden in my mind. And in hers. We are children who are nothing at this point in time. We cry, but we are not comforted. We scream, but we are not heard. We hope for an absolution to free our minds of such pain. We beg for the trust in our hearts to not die. Not yet. We offer chance after chance. Will we be repaid? I scribble angry messages on paper and watch it as it rots with such painful words. And I melt as I stand in front of this window, looking out at him. With a transparent wall in between us. |