Monday 9 December 2013

The Dress

Sometimes
her dress
is blue
sometimes grey
to match her mood
But always edged
in white ruffles

Under the azure sky
it ripples gently
as she sways

When storm clouds gather
it heaves heavily
as she rolls and crashes
on the black rocks

It tears apart
only for the sea
to pick up the tatters
and stitch it together

An endless ritual
played out for eternity


© 2013 Uma Venkatraman ~ All Rights Reserved

No comments:

Post a Comment