Alliterate beings bound about
Illiterate minds cast shade in doubt
Literary figures stand strong
In this day and those beyond
Flow of the cold winter air. Circulating
In weathered strips of fermentation, the tears oft get lost in the creases-
Freely the fear freckles form
Uncanny. A familiarity still-
As you’re left staring up the hill
Stone paths pronounced the trail
To the chapel house:
Where blackened shoes make their mark
Where wandering alibis come for their own
Where the darkness forms a cloud of clothes
Black and brown suits and slacks
Filtered grey veiled masks
In the interlude between patience and angst
“They keep the grounds very nicely, even with the snow and being so close to the road and all,”
“Yep, there’s never a sign of debris, nowhere”
That’s all that remains.
Words and memories of words and the way we attempt recreating images from those words.
Some are distilled to paint the lines.
Some distort the lanes of time.
Are just words,
In a void,
Colorless and disturbed
Sometimes I wonder as you wait:
Do you feel lonesome?
Does the emptiness within consume you?
If it does I am dearly sorry
But rest assured-
It won’t be that way for ever-
And then…you’ll have me for eternity