I want to
cut loose the moon...

you come
with sudden rain...

No, I will not burn
this poem...

The old house on the hill sits empty
its still structure a thousand tongues of silence...

Raindrops descend,
ruthlessly pounding...

In the fog of fleeting moments,
I see you grasping at shadows...

To the park, I saunter,
on a crisp autumn dawn...

I journey beyond
the edges of sound...

A silent dance
behind the eyes...

like metaphors
undeciphered...