I don’t know where it has gone,
I breathe though find no sound,
looking toward a beautiful horizon,
painting a vision no longer found.
There is no utterance without whine
somehow this passion doesn’t exist,
a laughter, an appreciation, fine wine
have unraveled, creativity will resist.
One day when sun spectacular shined
rain drenched birch and maple leaves
people in my life who once I felt defined
a silent memory now solemnity grieves
I would that all this pain I might release
a settling night, I could fathom a peace.
© Scott F Savage 7/2020
the ‘b’ series