I'm Not Much of One for Talk

Sun, 12/15/2013 - 18:33 -- Puella

I'm not much of one for talk,
But I'll write you my world if you'll read it.


I'll take a thousand words and paint for you a picture of--
The Snow-Capped Mountains pointing towards
The Moon that drops gentle reflections of light to
The People, who pay for this service in their admiration.
Beneath us there we'll find
The Rough Ground, cooled now after
The Sun has hidden for hours behind
The Horizon, which is a faded line hidden behind
The Snow-Capped Mountains.

I'm not much of one for talk,
But I'll write you my world if you'll read it.

I'll take a thousand words and paint for you a picture of--
The snow-capped mountains that take us by surprise
One minute a shadow, the next a light
Dimly glow before our eyes
And reach deep into the night.

Over rocks and past sharp edges
Our stares climb up the icy slope
Sauntering on by paths and ledges
Going through pain to reach the hope

Up to the top, above it all
One sole light hangs in the sky
The moon drops tears, they start to fall
We hear the silent, lonely cry
 
We pitied him, for we knew
Life's not made for one, but two.

I'm not much of one for talk,
But I'll write you my world if you'll read it.

I'll take a thousand words and paint for you a picture of--
The snow-capped mountains that stretch silently into the sky, which has become an inky blue in the minutes since dusk began. So recently the peaks were only a shadow outlined before the fiery hues of a setting sun. Now, with the sun tucked away behind a hidden horizon, the snowy crests illuminate the world of night. A lonely moon hangs inches above them, casting down light for their crystals of ice to reflect. In the darkness the world dances, but as we cast our gaze towards the motion all falls still. We will linger here, caught in a picture, two souls gazing at the same moon that many poets before adored. We are two bodies suspended forever at the foot of a midnight mountain, our eyes cast upon a marvelous sight. We are two people, held unendingly in that place of beauty.

I'm not much of one for talk,
But I'll write you my world if you'll read it.

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