Gaunt cheeks, solemn eyes.
Wizened, gray wisps hang from head,
perhaps I am already dead.
My face, like death in the night,
frightens all with sight.
Why does this corpse contain motion?
It has no purpose, not a single notion.
Terror breathing, emotion seething.
Tell me what to do
when age creeps through.

The class impatiently waited for the bell to ring,
second after second.
The clock still ticking, taunting them.
Will this class period ever end?
The boys tap their pencils on their desks or kick the floor,
the girls check their makeup or nails.
The bell rang!
They all stirred from a deep slumber in the hardened beds,
and rose from their seats,
yet only to return to another one once more.

A crescent reflection of pure light
shines above in black velvet.
Miniscule stars dance with it,
enthralled with mystic mirth.
One little star, tired from the excitement,
decides to rest; its path glows behind it.
Quickly, hurriedly, it streaks
through dark fields, transcends
over tall mountains, rushes along
cold, winding rivers.
Suddenly it stops, cradled by earth;
Its final respite.

Through the years,
memories brings us tears.
But as we think about all the times,
the rhythms and rhymes,
we imagine all the good we have shared,
especially for those for who we cared.
Moving on is a difficult feat.
In order for fears to be beat,
do not bury them within the ground.
Because if they are found,
stronger and grander grow the lies,
impacting reality, which, itself guise.

I am a puppet with
lips sewn together.
I lay there, apart,
on that hardwood floor,
limp and motionless.
Occasionally,
Terah visits to pull on those
gossamer chords.

Falling like rain
petals float above the earth.
The bud is bare, but for one
alone in the wind
swaying on the branch.
Gentle, fragile,
submissive to the breeze.
Spin.  Spin.  Spin.

Winter winds Howl against
the decrepit wood of a house.
The air, stone-cold, feels empty.
Flames slowly reach up from the hearth
to lick a face scarred,
turned from the inquiring eye.
Snow - a Flurry - assaults
the windows.
A rose, red and alone,
grows against the Chill.
Silence.