When I recall the quiet noise of morn
The days I pine, the darker eyes that loom
Ask less my mind, for when I in a gloom
It is the sky I seek to slow forlorn
The memory a haunt of sorrow found,
As lives we sow are asked to further go.
Beyond the real of the love we know
Is sunlight sure to welcome saner ground.
In between slats of home a golden air
Bemuse fear of letting go, losing her
For it is beautiful the morning stir
Of golden leaves – descend summer’s ware.
So when in the morning sun I wake alone
Her elegance in brilliant sky be shown.
I’m listening to some soft resonate
response to humanity,
when I wonder what it is I want to cry about.
I think about the events of the day,
a lost horizon,
an adjustment to being simple minded.
Now I wonder about a lot of little things,
so to pass the time,
a favored response to the greater good.
Yet there is always that occasional mind blown
revelation, an epiphany
starts our road like freshly laid asphalt.
There in the darkness I watched time,
and yet the morning sun still
shone like it managed every day of my life.
I wonder where it is I go, that leaves me
helpless in the space of time,
asking forgiveness and wandering alone.
I sometimes wait for letters that write a story,
sometimes just a glance,
and yet the time continues an autumn breeze.
I wonder if it might be true what she said,
too late, another life, not fair,
we can’t always want the same things together.
I know what love is today,
I’ve never felt such pain,
it is a beautiful thing –
My foot taps in a rhythmic motion,
the world seems to ignore,
the reality of my sadness forever more.
Oh to know the gentle caress of her touch,
is forever in my mind a scented
flower drawn by the artists’ of tomorrow.
Absolute stillness, a quiet,
has its own foreboding feel,
footsteps of an animal,
ever soft, nearby,
eyes will look, though concern,
only for affection.
Back to silence,
ticking in the distance,
an eternal reminder
how quickly august has arrived.
A person might smell the fear,
a wonder of purpose.
If there were a music,
to bring me somewhere,
I would choose its tantric
to hide this anxiety,
though it is the will of the mind,
a trapping of this questionable
Is it all artificial,
this world we live in,
a thorough timeliness,
to a clear definition.
I wonder out loud,
a heavy gasp,
air traffic overhead,
I realize now just why,
sitting in the comfort of my home,
the restlessness does continue,
without offering a solution,
only further reason to …