With the familiar blur of familiar frames -
Wearied, we wait discrete
Worried that we cannot breathe
for the wind is yet to take us away…
do you think much longer?
We blend in to the scene
like a sail in the overcast,
lingering in our subconscious -
striving, aching for the sting of summer to melt us in the sun…
when is it coming?
The frost bits our lips,
Fastening the deadly silence
A fascinating mind, hidden in fearsome chambers -
Collapsing with the dead leaves of our own trees…
How much longer?
We hesitate to bloom,
Blinded to our own beauty.
Another day, another season
Believing we are better by ourselves, the world is bitter…
Spring is shunned by the silence -
But we are fine;
The wind will take us away,
Summer’s sun will melt us,
The leaves will fall, and nature will bloom.
But we are more than we seem…