Scribbled Thoughts

The last gasp of summer

is swept away with icy rain,

small droplets stinging skin,

growing bolder as the

dark lasts longer.

Hidden breath is revealed

in crisp clouds,

our new evidence of life,

now the fluttering of flowers

and their occupants

are departing.

Shadows linger after dawn,

dark mode activated

for the world.

Welcome to the approaching

winter.

An empty plot

waiting for the end

in order to gain

a purpose.

The grass grows,

waiting for the day

it will be uprooted

and tossed aside

to hide the gone

beneath.

Like a house

someone bought it,

chose it,

for a day they

would occupy it.

In the meantime

it waits,

it’s still waiting.

I can give it a happy home,

that coffee cake on the side,

waiting for someone

to want it,

linger over its taste,

savour in its delights,

moan at its sensations.

It won’t be a long reunion

but it will be remembered.

Repetitive oral torture

rings in your ears

and dampens all joy,

haunts your movements

and influences your decisions.

Maybe piercing your eardrums

and living in silence

would make you happier.

Sort through tired thoughts

to understand the pressing

melancholy weighing

your movements,

slowing your progress,

preventing you from

reaching your goals.

Gather the familiar

to bask in the knowing

of who you are,

where you came from

and the direction

you are going.

Validate the real you.

Pocket a prayer

and savour its presence

until you’re desperate enough

to pull it out,

hoping it will make

a difference,

hoping it is

not unanswered.

Settle into your pattern

and focus on the planned

discretions, the moments

that will lift the average

and make a good life

even better.