Oblivion

30th April 2009

An almost-snowflake
falls from the sky.
The winter holds me tighter;
the wind blows hard.
This constant rumble simply keeps me from raising my head and thinking any further,
the almost piano notes continue tinkling in my head.
If I can hold myself, then I can keep warm.
I stifle a yawn,
     feel my calm heartbeat,
     shiver.
Dear, can you hold me
and keep me from the harm.
I can hear the sound from left and right;
the sound of so many laughing voices.
When time has run out and energy scarce,
I doubt they will ever find a way.
They may fail,
     amongst a hundred other volumes of decapitated sound.
Those will fall,
     and cease to bring themselves to alight,
I will find,
     that all I ever wanted was to find my way,
     nothing will hold me close anymore.
An almost-heartlight,
     a garish rumble and a freezing stop.

Comments are closed.