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The brown leaves
that shiver on the
bare branches greet
the last rays of gold
as the sun goes down.
A melody rises over
that velvet, shade of
fading green.
Bells of the indifferent
wind chime, for I am led
to a miracle of ancient
mother.
How beautiful...
A rose that grows waywardly
from within autumn's woods.
Spirits delighted to see the
rose that will not die, her red
petals shame my lips while
drooped sisters weep bitterly.
And in my garden, exquisite
fragrance,
Old memories,so sweet,
despite the thorns.
Illusions of the happiness of
the asleep and the dead...
Yesterday evening as i was walking through the forest, i saw a gorgeous red rose in front of an old abandoned house that still has not drooped...
 Sep 2016 Pauline Morris
Stephan
.
In a destined voice I shall speak my heart
beyond waning sunsets with colorful smiles
and fields of dancing sunflowers,
waving at me in the breeze like they know me

Standing here above all else,
feeling taller than I should
builds a certain strength in my soul,
energizes this tired, once worn out man with new life

Breathing the altitude’s wintered air,
a rush of splendor entices a gleam in my eye
For whatever beauty I may see, there is always her
and I can truly look nowhere else

I have climbed this peak, fought the terrain, the cold,
clawed and scraped on this day
so that the world below, humming autumn tunes,
meandering like ants performing their duties

Would know what I am about to say,
in this moment of peaceful serenity,
eyes wide open, conquering my fears,
pulse racing in fevered flow as anticipation swells, is true

Taking a deeper breath burns my lungs, but in a good way
as I move two steps closer to the edge, gather my balance
and shout from this apex of the world,
“I love you more than anything”
in hopes my desperate echoes find her listening
Your words put my mind through this vortex
A fool indeed
I'm throwing shadows in the dark
trying to light the wind
to create a tiny spark
as music's playing on the radio
to the sounds of a broken heart

Say the word
I'll come back
you only need a fire when it's really cold
or to heat you when your really old

Even though I'm down
just know I'll be around
to rescue you again.
Need I say more...
.
In the lowland fens at the worlds end,
Like the ferryman, a blue heron waits,
Eyes of dragon fly, hover, over still water,
His legs are the oars rowing to the dead.
When i am dead
I want you to
remember
that i loved
you
from deep within
my bones
but

when they scatter
my ashes
You will see
What it meant
for my bones
to be loved
by you  


only
then
will you see
how
Feeling your love
made me fly


That your love
always made me
Fly
without fear
of ever having
to land
The one handed thief ran out of the bank and jumped into the getaway car only to realize it was a four on the floor with stick shift .
I sure miss you here,
(In the hope that
you miss me too)
And if you don't,
I don't know
where this narrow path
through dense woods
will take me at the end.
No way, I could go back
to the begining when
my hope is there in the
journey's end.

Presumptions, we think
would have no thorns to fear,
but cause  vein jumps
again and again that may prove
the grapes were sore after all.

Every wish prompting one
to hit the road, often with
no rhyme or reason, would
have underlying conditions,
though unseen from where one starts.
Why, are we afraid to speak openly
how the journey would end
even when we set out so excited?

On your wall beyond the reach
of  my eager eyes are sketches
still incomplete;
that may break or make me.
And what it does to you then
is an idea vague in my imagination.
Why must we attempt the interpretation of another's song , our minds are filled with unique music if we would just let go , let the heart play along , let the soul solo , let harmony free fall* ...
Copyright September 22 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
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