A melancholy calm
in this tempestuous season
you are buried in regret
and mourn without a reason
Not the sting of a wasp
nor the maunder of fleeing geese
can waken you from your stupor
and help you seek release
Branches heave and sigh
outside your brown-box room
a chorus of winds sings your name
but all you hear is doom
What blinds you to brilliant colour
how come you cannot see
the sparkle of an early frost
and fireworks in the trees
Why do you sleep unknowing
as castles fill the sky
all is alive and breathing
and yet you long to die
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2 comments:
Very very nice!
Optomistic
Shaking somnolent souls awake
to the wonder of what awaits in the still coldness of winters.
"a chorus of winds sings your name
but all you hear is doom"
great line.
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