A furse of birds
Fragile wings that bring
Rising chaff
Of ground cover dreams
Litanies and lamentations  
Half hearted singing
In the sanctuary
I am the echo of a soul
Shallow voice breaks the silence
In hallowed halls
Like poetry thrown up
Dry chalk scritti on dusted shale
Persona non grata
I stand pale
Naked before you
Muffled pulse of an average life
I am the trickling stream
Wishing for waves
Gentle breath across the surface
Scattering ash and expectations
Borrowed words spring from fingers
Slip my grip and flit away
Like color bleeding from empty sky
At the end of day

TL Boehm
061408