Musings of a Solitary Woman
Amidst fading memories
Amidst fading memories
In the quiet echoes of my solitude, a lingering cry emerges from the depths of the child within, yearning to be set free.
It is a moment that shadows my solitary existence, a poignant reminder that there is still much love to embrace, and life, with its untold lessons, continues to unfold.
The stars above, lonely luminaries, cast their light upon the frost-kissed expanse of my heart. They gleam like white gems against the canvas of the deepest night, a silent witness to the somber solitude that lingers throughout the day.
Judgment
I stand as both the judge and jury of my own misdeeds, confined within the walls of old, weathered wood, worn hard by the passage of time.
I am but a solitary wishing star, donning the guise of a prosecutor, captivated by the essence of a will that has long departed.
Each memory, like another star swallowed by the approaching dawn, becomes a testament to the unspoken ache that resonates within the quiet corners of my soul.
Scrawled upon the darkened wall of the mind, reflections linger like a fading stain, etching tales of moments that once danced vividly.
Eyes, avid interpreters of the heart’s desires, witness a scene where a frozen rose, its beauty immune to the passage of time, stands as a silent testament to the embrace of winter’s breath.
Amidst dreams woven with breathless kisses, I find contentment in solitude, a stillness akin to bone, and a purity as pristine as winter’s snow.
Time stands still
Just as dawn relies on the cloak of darkness to birth daylight, so have the years weathered away with a quiet strength, leaving an indelible impression that time, in its subtle dance, momentarily halts.
In the quiet corridors of existence, these reflections paint a tapestry where the ephemeral meets the eternal, and each word scrawled upon the mind’s canvas echoes the silent poetry of a soul attuned to the symphony of life’s timeless cadence.
Upon the mind’s dim wall, scrawled reflections leave an indelible mark, a lingering stain fading with the ebb of time. Eyes, ever interpreters of the heart’s whims, witness a scene where a rose, frozen but ageless, stands defiant against the breath of winter.
In dreams adorned with breathless kisses,
I find solace in solitude, still as bone, as white as winter’s virgin snow.