Andrina sits on the hillside watching
Events unfold at her feet
Seeing lives living and dying
She never misses a beat
Her curios and stories scattered everywhere
As toys on a playroom floor
All laid bare for none but her
She will change the ending once more
The wind whistles round at her fingertips
And she whispers words of yore
Screaming wildly that unhinged anger slips
Calling up a night of storms and thunder
Determined to have her will she dips
Dropped to ground she doesn’t care to touch
Watching as her little paradise shows
It’s never gonna be the green haven she craves
Till she tills at the earth mixing
The shadows are beautifully existing
Her voice howls and squeals as she goes
Ailsa
©AilsaCawleyPoetry2017
