What is this bliss
That has me amiss
My thoughts verdant burning
Sound of cool rain
Soothing my pain
Nullifies the yearning
To see more of me than you
Hidden from my view
The epicenter of my discerning

This mask of stone
Your presence has grown
Barren branches reach for the sky
The silence belies
My unfocused eyes
Frozen from tears I cry
But you carry me through
To the place that is you
To the where and the how and the why

Turbulence grows
Cold wind blows
My mind is storm filled and gray
But you are the mark
The light in the dark
I stand clinging to what you say
In you I have seen
Fields of green
Upon this troubled path I stay.
072006
TL Boehm