Tag: original prose

there is a lullaby
if you listen
you will hear
the soft sweet sounds
of early spring
whispered in your ear

The scent of her breath
the song that she sings
are borne to me
on angel’s wings

for what else could touch
those precious things
save the pureness
and light
of angel’s wings

there once was
you and I
then someone
learned how to fly

My cloak wrapped tight around me
My back turned toward the shore
An ill wind has somehow found me
And buffets me once more

take me with you

when you go

walking on clouds

as white as the snow

what is frozen

I do not know
I do not see

but I feel
inside of me

a coldness
that can only be

where it starts

We search for what we perceive
to be the truth
as we believe.

Belief is but a lonely river
that cannot sate
nor deliver.

In silent sadness
let Summer pass

seek beauty
in it’s absence

and peace
in whispered
mourning