The breeze blows her hair as she assumes her position;
Lays down in the meadow with hope of fruition.
Stopping a while to think and to wonder,
Staring towards the sun, growing ever fonder.
Just letting her life carelessly ebb away,
In cotton deams of folly, disguise and play.
Blocking out all noise from around,
Disregard as her feet quickly leave the ground.
As the sun beats down, penetrating her skin,
She laps it all up, forgetting what is within.
Failing to think of her affairs back home,
The seeds she once planted, how much it had grown.
As she gets burned and blinded in the still of the day,
The birds grow quiet, leave perch and fly away.
This goes unnoticed by the one and her sun,
While clouds draw in, realisation of what's done.
The sky has gone dark and the burned skin fierce,
Longing for the breeze to take away the sun's pierce.
The night is so clammy and the air so hot,
A fitting irony for all she forgot.
Stiff and aching from stiffling, harsh rays,
Discovery of blindess from her skewered gaze.
The breeze is just hiding, try finding it fast,
Yet your still blinded, learn quick for the moment is passed.
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