Broken

The world’s heart
is broken
its soul
is evaporating
its life’s breath
stagnant.

But there
I hear her tongues
of birdsong
I feel her soft fingers
of sunlight
I see her beauty
and know all will be well.

Green

I’m here
I’m here, at last.

Sun’s love touches
upon daisy, buttercup
and the green
the beautiful green
beneath my feet.

Here I am
at last
with pen and book
back at my old haunts
caressed by shadows
kissed by nature.

When words don’t appear

There is this
this this temptation
to reveal the truth
of this feeling
but what would be the point?

When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand.

The truth is
she brings me comfort
with a glance
and what do I bring
but silence.

When words don’t appear
when I want them to
except here
where they flow like sand

peaceful, but for the
screams

in her own way

she, is misunderstood
she brings forth such, sorrow
rather like, mist in moonlight
where the path is hidden
and the trees with their dark foliage
hide their beauty in shadows

she is, beneath it all
beneath her shadow
deep beneath the roots of her dark mystery
she is, in her own way
a spectre of love

she loves … she wishes she could love
as tenderly as those mists
as magical as that moon
as soft as those beautiful leaves
but her gothic soul, crumbles
at the very thought of,

life.