Words as discordant,
As the influx of sounds around me...
Sitting beneath a silver foliage.
Watching the air quiver,
One wind at a time...
The anticipation of activity,
Its juvenile bid to attract.
The trees resound with hysteria!
The yellow clouds giving way to a suppressed grey...
The winds, they trample me and flee..
And like an unwelcome guest,
The unprovoked thought of you clouds my solitude.
The eternally gentle brow furrows...with...?
Oh woe!...it wasn't meant to be.