As ambient sounds
gradually mutes into milder tones,
breaths battle to assuage.
Profound agonizing weak moans,
fall like disintegrating leaves -
I'm weak like an exposed tree.
Harvest time eyes look
towards my approaching winter garden.
Heart is a paper sack of feelings,
presently loaded with extra pieces -
where spring once converged with summer petals.
Brain is an unclear assortment of
memories and reflections -
overlooked recollections, unfulfilled guarantees,
words lost peacefully.
Fate tried with her games.
I am as yet an unassuming kid,
with no consideration for winning, nor losing -
agreeing to her impasse.
Lament is that untraveled way,
not following the signs - hesitant
to eat from the nursery of her Eden -
contemplating on the off chance that it merited the transgression.
Presently
so numerous watery eyes,
reverberate like violin tears.
Earthy colored, green and blue -
however, I don't see hers.
Unmoving with shudders and chills,
Lights are diminishing, quietness is showing.
In murkiness, outlines show up,
as life vanishes -
I can scarcely hear the music.
Our life is a sonnet,
each beat of our souls a drop of ink.
Some abandon words,
some clear pages.