Wednesday, 13 April 2016


They've moved on
These emblems of a stony path
A foot high pile of leaves
Autumn, I'm not sure why it it stays
When skies are brimming with Spring's song
A crunching quiet of oranges browns
As I stand beneath this barren tree
With hands that once held yours in my pockets
How many times have we traced these lines
Journeys of moments upon our palms
The infinitesimal grooves at our fingertips
Imprinting upon the seams of a thousand lives
Goodbye songs and goodbye sighs
A word that could never be spoken
Goodbye memories, goodbye my trees
Goodbye this heart that is broken

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there exists something within that in the space of poetry can only be silent, held within the wor(l)ds afore writ. though often I do not respond to feedback I do thank you for your words