O' how I miss and mourn for mother's voice
That swiftly passed like Autumn's southern breeze...
seven geese swim seven skies
across the wetlands, marsh, and tides...
When music no longer
soothes the savage beast...
The clock does not know
it will continue ticking...
as morning breaks, my heart does too
I hear the blackbirds songs of blue...
Night born skies
delivered within majestic fantasies...
Holidays were
always coarse...
She began starving long ago
standing alone, frozen from head to toe...
The cold breeze
curled around her...
The night unbraids
my bones...
The colour fades
from her cheeks...
There is something about you
that I begin to slip away...