Silver Monsoon (L'argent Ligne) | Teen Ink

Silver Monsoon (L'argent Ligne)

July 19, 2010
By T-Kanyi-A BRONZE, Catasauqua, Pennsylvania
T-Kanyi-A BRONZE, Catasauqua, Pennsylvania
2 articles 7 photos 6 comments

I trip along the silver line
That’s halfway yours and halfway mine
Which goes around a graying sky
And traces clouds that never die
And pass the blue, yet fail to fly
As we embrace the storm, but don’t know why
Oh! How the storms beckon, and how we hark
Though we’re tripping blindly in the dark
And following clouds into the unknown
Into seas of shadows rarely shown
As I trip along the silver line
And follow paths left undefined
And even though you’ll soon be gone
The stars by which you traveled on
Will only shine half as bright
When gray clouds form the dreary night
And puddles fill the empty spaces
Beside me as the moon erases
Images of solemn faces
With the silver line that traces
Clouds that hang among the sky
And never fade, and never die
As I trip along the silver line
That’s halfway yours and halfway mine
The snow freezes in midair
And though we fall it remains there
For us to envy as we drift
Through the gray clouds, unable to lift
Our souls above the silver line
By which we’re forever intertwined
Yes, even as you make your way
Into another cloudy day
With ponds like mirrors in the grass
Reflecting silver lines that pass
The trails that run under our toes
Into the place that no one knows
Where all is lost and nothing won
And souls, like laces, come undone
But we don’t care because all we can do
Is follow the storm that guides us through
The darkness in which we are blind
Where shadows make it hard to find
The cloud that hovers above the storm
And frightens us, but keeps us warm
And keeps us safe from the golden light
Against which we have no will to fight
But for you, the warmth is gone
It’s turned to ice and carried on
To other people who need it, too
And though I’ll regret, I must go through
The storm and darkness all alone
And live within a monotone
With rain and clouds, the stars and moon
To form the coldest, black monsoon
And give what’s yours to keep what’s mine
As I stumble off the silver line

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.