Long pale piano fingers
stroke and linger in
the seaside sand
Unsure of what roots
she could possibly find
or plant in such a place
As an icy breeze
brushes her face
taken by surprise
she opens her eyes,
and finds an angry sky
and braces for a rumble
that rattles through
her hands and knees
& her seemingly useless key
tumbles down
as she scrambles now
desperately seeking
some place safe
and finds a small cave
to sit and watch the waves
The clouds roar and
hover closer as the
first bright bolt
of heaven’s heat
boldly lights the sky
And in a flash she sees her key
sitting like gold in the sand
Just as a single bolt of violet strikes
And just as quickly as it came
the summer storm soon passed
as she excitedly crawled
to the spot her key had sat
She starts digging fast
Unearthing the proof
the simplest of truths
she had been seeking
Home sweet home at last…
She finds her roots in glass
Your poetry is a delight of pure wonders and crafted imagery.
Bravo! 🙂
Thank-you! 🙂
You are welcome…:)
You should stop by and check out my poem.
I like that finding of the key, home sweet home at last ~ Finding roots, the message resonates with me ~ Hope you are well Gretchen ~
Love writing about roots. 🙂
Very concrete writing here.
~Tamara
Love the ending of this, Gretchen. It is always good to be HOME.
nice…pretty cool journey in this…glass houses….def freedom on being that open…i do love that treasure is home…and sometimes it takes storms for us to be able to see that…smiles.
Hey Brian! Nice to hear from you. Roots are good for sure 🙂
finding her roots in glass… i find that fascinating..also how she finds them… ah it is good to find those roots…
Magical reading.
Finding roots – the key – and through the storm.. the paralell between the root and the key carries a good symbolic value..