Poetry
1 min
Joanna
Harper Johnson
Traced in the petals
Of a timeless lantana
A paean passed through time
A hymn named Joanna
Narration through fanciful eyes
As if gazing beyond a withered yarrow
But her heart feeding itself lies
To reach a kaleidoscope without sorrow
A rivulet of love
Burrowed in her skin
Streams sprouting through veins
Heart pumping forth sin
She saw his face ornate
A figure for her mind to revere
Grazing her surface she realized
Their souls must be near
Even pivotal eyes that scream
As important as they seem
Could not contain her feat
Over all the aureate gleam
In her dreams tied with gold
Off her feet she was swept
But brought back by the breeze
Under covers she wept
For she knew their song of love
Was plucked with the strings of her heart
A forlorn melody floating above
That she'd ruminate from the start
Is crazy from love
Not better than from hatred?
She thought it to herself
For his love she awaited
But his tide rolls in
No matter her moon
Her silent disaster of notice
At his departure so soon
In the lens of reality
The glitter lustrously embedded
Lost its flame towards ash
Requesting a truth once dreaded
Beneath her lyrics overgrown
She drowned in the past revel
But she felt a figure pass and linger
One who came down to her level
Through rose petals askew
A new flower grew
Not glaring, not sublime
But a truth to grow in time
So her final act of love
Release the sacred dove
Keep the hand on his soul
From the angels above
Yet she can always recall
The written cries of hosanna
Ripped and left at the altar
From a hymn named Joanna
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