Glimpsing at the bright glare,
The light catches the eye,
Pro-founding an insight on the features of outside.
The shrilled trees swaying in nurture,
Bursting blooms of innocence fleurs
Bouncing on the floor
Or hiding
Behind small curls of leaves.
All sighing hums of
Allure to this window.
Putting on a show of specular fray
A wink of smoke lingers and pops
Past the prancing joy.
Filling the space in complete volume,
Like a dark cloud heavily hanging in remembrance,
The garden stops to look at the horrors.
Looking closer
The trees stood still,
The flowers weren't majestic,
But a stale background of a frame in an office.
A tired look.
The smoke clears to view the truth of what lay in thought.
Pulling the shades back-
Pondering what a soul lacks.
Is beyond what is capable of fixing,
Or wishing to outshine this landscape.
Will instead stay frail.
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