Poetry 2! Kiss me out of the bearded barley
Act III: Whispers Through Winter's Chill
Years drift by, seasons turn and change their hue, The woman's life takes paths both old and new. She builds a home, a family takes root, But in her heart, the barley's whispers still astute.
Winter descends, a blanket of frosted white, The barley sleeps, hidden from the moon's cold light. The woman stands, her breath a frosty plume, Loneliness creeps, a shadow in the glooming room.
A familiar ache, a longing undefined, For solace sought, a peace she used to find. She shrugs it off, her duties press and bind, But the barley's call echoes in her mind.
One day, a break, a sliver of pale sun, Melting the frost, a glimpse of what's to come. The woman feels a pull, a whisper on the breeze, A yearning strong, carried on the rustling trees.
She bundles up, defying winter's sting, And ventures out, where memories take wing. The frosted fields, a silent, shimmering spread, The barley sleeps, beneath a blanket of white instead.
But as she walks, a warmth begins to bloom, A patch of green, defying winter's gloom. A tiny circle, where the frost dares not tread, The barley whispers, a message from the dead.
Kneeling down, she brushes off the snow, To see a face, a tiny spark aglow. The barley creature, older, frail and worn, His tiny voice, a whisper barely born.
"Welcome back," he murmurs, a sigh escapes his breath, "I've waited long, to see you face the test of death. Winter's grip, it holds even the strong, But the barley whispers, where hope carries on."
Tears well up, the woman's heart feels sore, For years have passed, yet this creature waits at the door. She speaks of burdens, losses she has known, The weight of life, a path she walks alone.
The creature listens, with weary, knowing eyes, "Life holds its thorns," he whispers, "but hope never dies. The barley whispers stories of resilience untold, Of spring's return, where life breaks free from the cold."
He tells of hardships faced through winters past, How the barley sleeps, but dreams a dream that lasts. Of hidden strength, within the frozen ground, Waiting for warmth, a new season to be found.
Act IV: Spring's Awakening
Days lengthen, the sun's warmth starts to spread, Melting the frost, where life begins to tread. The barley awakens, a verdant tide, Pushing through the earth, nowhere left to hide.
The woman visits often, as spring unfolds its might, Watching the barley, bathed in golden light. The creature grows stronger, with each passing day, His voice a whisper, chasing winter's chill away.
They share new stories, lessons learned and taught, A bond reforged, a solace dearly bought. The woman finds strength, in the whispers of the wind, A reminder that darkness does not always win.
One day, a sprout, a different shade appears, A single stalk, with a blossom filled with tears. The barley creature smiles, his voice a gentle chime, "My time is ending, but in spring, all life finds its rhyme."
The woman understands, a tear rolls down her cheek, A bittersweet farewell, a promise she must keep. The barley blossom opens, a radiant, golden hue, And within its heart, a tiny creature, brand new.
A younger version, of the one she came to know, With the same gentle smile, a wisdom yet to grow. He reaches out, a tiny hand so frail, "Thank you," he whispers, "for the stories you exhale."
The woman smiles, a lump within her throat, "Go forth," she says, "and spread your hopeful note. For even in winter's grip, when darkness seems to reign, The barley whispers, and life will bloom again."
She watches him disappear, into the verdant maze, A new chapter starting, in the spring's golden haze. She knows she'll return, when shadows start to creep, For the barley's whispers, hold secrets ever deep.
Epilogue: A Legacy Whispered on the Wind
Years turn to decades, the woman's hair turns grey, But the barley fields, they forever hold their sway. A place of solace, a haven from the storm, Where whispers of hope, keep her spirit warm.
She visits still, though her steps are slow, A gentle smile, a wisdom she a wisdom she now bestows.
