By the sill sit still;
Listen to the wash on the roof;
Specks and sheets form a symphony
so complete to hush you quiet,
This libation to parched earth has
been a meditation since birth;
to ponder under the pitter-patter
hiss and swish of exponential scales
At the wrongness of raindrops in a sunbeam.
Sit still, brood like the clouds that came
to darken a June day, so silent they gathered
over a land hard with memory,
With fear for passing years and
worries that grew like weeds in summer showers.
Brief as thought these drops like jewels
are set ablaze then strike the dirt; done.
They flash for an instant in time,
with no way back to an azure sky.
There is no telling the distance,
How high these clouds climb.
Just the sound of falling rain,
A halogen glow
Winter pressing on the glass
This tired bus rolls on
Bring me home once more.
A sigh in the dark.
Past my jaded lips it rises
like a ghost, and I the host
of thoughts enamoured but unwanted,
Night takes my sight and unleashes vision
I watch (not my decision) the memories bloom to life.
Ethereal and hazy, those lazy summer days
Of hasty plans, promises, platitudes made;
childish to dream it could have stayed
Polite and awkward we shuffle in the light of day,
you think before you act and mind what you say
and if lucky enough you might get away
without blurting a thought from your head gone astray.
Why do eyes so bright bring such dark thoughts?
Why do we fear to take what we want?
A sigh in the dark.
Across chilled skin it spreads
like fire, this unspoken desire
between whispering sheets. Fingers grasp and twine,
I feel hers, she feels mine, as we search in the dark
This night air we’ll share;
it's vice, and with vigour,
seeking the trigger
Solemn as a red winter sunrise
My solitary funeral march begins
By the bloodstained rocky horizon.
Snow falls, forever indifferent.
Footsteps crunch in the death white silence.
Trudging uphill, clenched taut
against the cold and the dark.
I'm coming home to say goodbye.
— The End —