Ode To A Fleeting Story 

girl-writing-1895

The words seemed to be playing

above the page

as if suspended in time,

Reveling in a quiet joy

yet turning into a baroque reverie,

as they refused to light onto the page.

 

They seemed to be whispering

in her ear, dipping and darting,

then drifting together in a dance

right off the page.

 

It was late and she was weary,

She needed to get this story

out of the mess that was

the tangled rosebush of her mind.

 

Light began to fill the sky

where the moon and stars

used to be.

 

Even as she leaned over the page

The dawn now seemed

to be making the page’s blankness

all the more stark.

 

Sometimes having followed the words,

in the end, it’s not the story that you find.

It has been sweeping away

in a dance of fractured segments

that could not form.

 

Sleep now into this negative of nights 

now turned to daylight.

Another time this story will

find its way to the page.  

© DiAnne Ebejer 

 

 

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About DiAnne Ebejer

I am retired and live on the East coast of Florida where I spend much of my time reading, playing with photography and trying to write some "poetry and then some" at dianneebejer.wordpress.com. I care deeply about many things and wish there was much more love and compassion in this world today. I also have a part time blog "Thought You Might Like This" diannesthingsat.wordpress.com used for special projects and occasional things of interest
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2 Responses to Ode To A Fleeting Story 

  1. Morgan says:

    Thank You for this Wonderful Poem. I Truly Appreciate Your Inspirations 🙂 Happy Friday and Have a Fantastic Week End~

    Like

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