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On my way home

On my way home I met a woman called mystery.

Her hair as black as an Onyx stone,

And as wavy as the drifting ocean.

Her Lilac eyes began to fade into the darkness 

The more she spoke her deep, dark words. 

She began to cry but only a mysterious black substance

leaked out.

 

I met a girl called Pride.

She always strode with her head

Up high and never seemed to look down.

 Her hair was as Ginger as a Lion’s main and 

Her words seemed like daggers

Every time she spoke her cruel

Words.

 

I met a man called Clock.

His eyes always ticking and 

Brain always cogging.

He never seemed to rest

And his eyes always red with 

Constantly ticking and chiming.

 

I met a boy called Amber.

His eyes the colour of a freshly carved Pumpkin

And as deep as a cave.

He had many freckles surrounding his face

In a deep orange tone.

His hair was as big as a lions main

And the same colour as one.

 

I met a girl called Nature.

Her eyes were green as leaves

And her hair was like a new-grown field

Of grass. Flowers surrounded her hair 

And engraved her features throughout her face.

 

I met a woman called Work.

Her eyes were bloodshot red and she

Seemed to always be busy, 

Alongside her sat a mug full of caffeine which 

Never left her sight, she definitely made sure of that.

Her hair was big and fuzzy like a birds nest in the open,

The nest cried for rest as she continued to type more and more.

 

I met a Man named Scottish.

His blue-tartan kilt blew in the heavy winds

Along with his thick, orange hair. 

Deep, dark freckles surrounded his face, making him almost 

Unrecognizable. I looked to his side and seen a long, slender can

Of Irn-Bru that he clutched extremely tight as if it were the crown jewels.

 

I met a boy called Perfect.

His Slightly Curly, Caramel hair overtook 

His forehead completely.

His eyes were an emerald green 

That shimmered in the sunset.

He had many freckles surrounding 

The under area of his eyes, making him unique.

Although he may be called ‘Perfect’ he may not be at heart.

 

On my way home I met you. 

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