Stories Falling from the Sky

Upon the starry pond, a lily pad

Shivers as the ripples travel by,

Created from the falling of the leaves

Floating now like flecks in liquid eye.

As tears well up within my windowed soul,

Silver waves enfold my weary feet,

Awaiting you beyond what dreams I meet

Beneath the stories falling from the sky.

 

 

Occasionally, I'll write a poem without a clear theme in mind. I'll just start with a line or a phrase, and let each line come out of the previous one. This poem was definitely like that, and I have to say that I'm still not sure of how exactly to interpret the final product. My thought, at this point, is that the second set of four lines relates to the first set - I correspond to the lily pad, being affected by the stories (leaves) falling from above, which inspire dreams of those close to me (ripples)...maybe.