Eyes did close

garden 102

 

It was a drawn out breeze

that shook free what was left.

A timid, though unrelenting thing that cast shade and shape

over our faces.

Summoning aged branches to sway.

Aged limbs, that threatened to break when they bent and tilted the light

which we trusted to show us the truth.

Turning foul the friend thought foe

to stand in unforgiving shadow.

Placing heartbreak’s color – raven,

to reign over eyes that once saw rose.

And my eyes did close at the breeze’s soft bidding.

Though closing, not to hide,

they closed to remember.

They chose to remember

the good they’d once seen.

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A song

Virginia 118

There were words available to tell her story but she didn’t want them.

Because they only spoke, they didn’t sing.

And her story was a song to be sung.

Because when spoken of, it sounded like a trial.

But when sung, it grew wings.

Wings that rode on vibrations of sounds that could shake up, and break in like speaking never could.

So tonight she would sing her story in an alleyway.

In a narrow space.

So that the sound would fly up into open windows.

And give impoverished spirits a melody to dance to.