one not heard but known
hers were many months ago
his commonly shone
one not heard but known
hers were many months ago
his commonly shone
no words might employ
the sadness seems silent enough
to make this less a play
~ finding my way, a personal journey ~
Though trials
would walk
in open fields
it is the clustered streets
contain callous
outcomes.
Trying to discover
an answer
the pawn
walked careless
inside a dream
stirring storm.
Afraid of winds
no shelter
only the barren
nature of loss,
the quiet loneliness
of last days.
A quiet recall of softer ways
all that remains in sweeter days.
I am going to write about
you today,
you wonder
’Is it me?’
In the mind of the reader
is it possible
to not know the pen
yet feel trauma in
the words.
I am going to write about
a feeling
we all might have
yet sometimes
well
more often,
maybe less for you,
depends upon our
own silent
interpretation.
I am going to write about
grief
and yes
this will be about you
because
that one day
when no one else seemed
to care
everyone did even perhaps
more than
we desire.
I am going to write about fantasy
we all have them
know
the moment, the place, the why,
quite easily the who
what, when, where
’how did I ever … ?’
get here.
I am going to write about …
well this one
this moment
a time we know,
well knew,
we know,
well wish we could
know.
I am going to, I will
one day
I will
again
I will write about
love
I will
write about you.
I am going to write about …
~ finding my way, a personal journey ~
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