When we chance
upon each other
years later,
you will ask me

          do you still write?

and I will answer

           of course I do.

you took my heart
with you when you left,
not my hands.

just a foolish girl
letting nostalgia
fill her heart
and leave her aching
for a love
that never existed.

Sometimes I wonder
if noise had a colour
then what shade
would silence be

As pebbles are thrown
into the lonesome pond
laughter splashes out
And smiles run and glide
with ripples of liveliness.

a ruined bed, two lovers lay,
outside, the first slow breath of day,

a song is sung - a bird, up high,
born years ago, somehow survived

the rip and tear of tooth and claw,
hatched from a nest that did not fall,

a slender limb that did not break
on sleeping earth that did not quake

grown old and tall and straight and wide,
a withered seed that never died,

blown from afar on autumn breeze,
stirred from the ground with careless ease,

a little boy raking the ground
looked to the sky, and heard the sound
of birds