Once a jungle, trimmed to a garden.
Till came a frost that turned into tundra.
Then the ice buried me six feet under.

Frozen dreams of an era of sunshine,
Living in a land of hindsight
After going on a fatal rock-climb.
Winter whitelands are nice in picture frames,
But the reality is the cold wrecks and maims.
A fiery love doth the icy wind tame.
In this tomb I lived for so many moons.
Went into a state of suspension, couldn’t move.
Frostbite began to creep in – a treacherous doom.
Then one fateful day, as the gales wailed away.
Through a shifting cloud came a shaft of day.
An alluding whisper that everything would be okay.
Like a ray of early morning sun, dancing back an’ forth.
Tween swaying trees, dabbling here and forth –
Then all of a sudden, you burst out, like July the Fourth.
A warm beam of golden sunlight
Touched down on the ice.
And deep inside, I felt something come alive.
The bleak whiteness which froze the soul melting down.
The bleakness is gradually fading out.
Your ray of light punctures the ground.
Like someone held in suspension awakes,
Rising from an 100 year slumber as dawn breaks –
Feel the icy shackles abate.
After so long living in this depression,
Your warmth suddenly gives way to trepidation
Maybe it’s just an imagination – a hallucination.
But even as the clouds tried to cut you out.
Every time it’s running out,
You put just a bit of fuel in to stave off the doubts.
My blood’s flowing now, I have a new vision.
Walking about, building back up a once strong nation.
Whenever I’m down, I just look to a sunbeam’s incision.
I’ve always wonder where my energy comes from,
Over time I’ve finally discovered it’s when the sun shone.
I’m a solar panel and you keep me turned on.
There are times I’m scared to tell you what you mean,
But I guess I have to tell you some time it seems.
So here we go – you’re my beautiful sunbeam.
Story behind the poem:
Just writing down sweet little nothings for a sweet girl I know. 🙂
Maybe one day I’ll actually show her, but here we go.
Who knows, maybe she’ll read this and work it out.
I guess I wouldn’t be to surprised if she found out.
forest by Andreas Krappweis

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