the silence in
your voice
is like a storm
in the cold.
when it thunders
the sky renders
a fidgeted cloud
wanting  to rowd
away to a bout.
it moves random
looking to stardom
wishing the rain
would fall.
and when it does
the calm
traps
any remaining  of the stabs
the weather
had dabbed.
the return of the sound
a musical
found
is perfect to  accompany the mind.
when you open up
and say
it is proud
all the things you 'lowed.

it is impossible
to let you go
and yet you
flow
away  to
slow
never to grow
an inch
of sow.
life had
you fro
it knew
you'd go.

I approached you with a smile
and let you off
a mile.
i had you with desire
and saw you with admire.
it neither tracked
nor hired
but all the same it
fired.
you neither were
nor went.
my feelings to you
soured
you never had them powered.
to see you off was
mild.

night time
falls
and light time
tolls.
I cannot wait
for the day
to launch.
to see the sun
is my perfect
fun.
no pleasure measure
nature is my leisure.

under pressure
terminates leisure
quit it
whether
it is loud
or rather.
no need to
whack
when it
can tact.
time
to sack
is the perfect slack.
let it not
flack
when it
can pact.

when
simple praises
difficult
it is because
to deep
and typical
it is flawed.
it sees itself
caught between
naught and bolt.
it would concern
if it did not
sault.
complex would
eventually jolt
the pressure is too
haught.

life according to me:
it is neither
black or white
nor gris,
it is pastel
pris,
colours of free.
transparent
is we.
a painter's
plea
to it
is key.
without it
he will never
be.