Plain White Cotton Cloth

Thunderous applause gave way to a soothing

melody of a singing bird.

Just like the muffled sounds,

one can hear in the softness of the

plain white cotton cloth.

The muffled sounds of the bygone days

where everything sang

in the calming choir of unity.

It flaps and flutters in the unforgiving twirls,

that bellow in the ruin

of a young man’s dream.

In sand storms, it struggles

robbed off of every bit of hope

that dared linger in that hopeless place.

One can see in the fleeting pristine of

the plain white cotton cloth,

the memories of the long-gone clarity -

lost in chaos of the unaccomplished desires.

Stained, impure and torn now,

as it twists and tumbles within the ruin,

limping to the long melancholy sighs,

pursuant of the glorious purity

where dreams were painted and hopes created.

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