Don't Give Up [Elizabeth deSpain]

Elizabeth deSpain

Clouds drifting overhead like a soft lullaby,
the exotic wind whipping itself around your neck,
giving a gentle hug.
All the birds of the air singing their song…
the perfect picture. But on the inside…
the curtains sadden at every sway.
The sun can't even liven the deadly grey
silence that penetrates through the soul.
A dirty mirror on the black dresser,
staring back at the cold hard bed,
one that hasn't felt a warm bosom
in more than half it's life.
The sunlight, still trying, yet not succeeding
to shoot its light towards the demon spirits
hidden in the dust and cobwebs.
Hidden in the darkness was a faded rug…
one that hasn't had the reassuring feeling
of shoes in so long, it wonders if it was all
just a dream… a perfect fantasy that could
never take place in reality. Yet, in the midst
of this depressing place, sat a
rose bud on the windowsill, trying
ever so desperately to bloom.
The cobwebs made it impossible for it
to reveal its beauty.
Why does it have to end this way?
Do we not get second chances?
Does the world not see the beauty being
forced beneath the darkness?
Can we never move on and start over?
The wind thrust its power on the rose bud
with a force that should have knocked it
to the ground. And yet it didn’t.
Instead, in the deep silence, the
wind whispered softly, “Don’t give up.”