silence is a telling voice
gentle hearts do hear 
 
with hush of bated breath,
as season’s end,
inner tides grow low

longing eyes whisper
in wordless tears
the passing of love
grown cold                                    

raindrops taste
like wistful tears,
without the ache

when your sky comes falling down ...**
                                                           ­                                        

 *wild is the wind

Looking for a silver lining
               every time
                          it turns out wrong

Weighing reasons to believe
               looking for an
                          un-lost heart to behold

Seeking a golden skeleton key
               that unlocks
                          the secret garden’s
                                 velvet gate

Feeling the deep ache
                of cold and lonely
                           on a golden autumn morn

Walk along the garden pathway
               follow me down
                           the wooded pensive trail

See the reflection in the wishing well
                looking wistfully back
                            unbidden eyes' do tell

Feeling never enough
               like a pearl-less oyster’s
                           empty shell

Tripped and fell another dawning
               trying to come in
                           out of the storm

The only silver lining
               betides the moment,
                            
                            ­sipping words

                            of hopeful waters

               from your well ...


*wild is the wind

Looking out across the many shades of dark on dark
The rolling ashen gray fog opens a window to the dawn
and I feel a loneliness,  arising like the winter sun
             … in the morning

The trees have bared their golden surrender
Breaking silence through the windswept boughs
below,  gathered dewdrops blossom on the last winter rose
             … a chilling epilogue

Beyond the waning hydrangea sundried sepia tones
Latent conflicts of the head and heart stir the hush of memories
imposing heart whispers,  arising like sunlight shadows cast
             … in the morning

There’s no one listening to the wind roar the incoming wintertide
An ascending sadness paints many hues that contrast dark and light
as the Pink Moon,  steals away over lonely mountain headed south
             … in the morning


                                         every picture tells a story ― ☾ wild is the wind ☽

.
life lives with or without you ,..

but what will become of
the unwritten psalms ,..
when the darkness will not sleep (?)!

that like the murmur in the shell,
its echo dwelleth and will dwell

like a black swan of loneliness
enwombed in a whiter shade of pale


                                                              ­             *wilder blows the dark wind