Gone Are the Breezes

there's something in the eyes that hide the truth; i saw the sun rise today, a red passion kissing the lake as reflection's of the day rolled along. i could feel the stillness of easterly breezes as my own breath struggled to fall, yellow, within whispers of my own consciousness; the trees stood close together, shadows of tomorrow's promise, if tomorrow were to come. i could see beyond the reflection, the depths of night, as it waited, patiently on the edge of day, as if it were a mind. my own mind twisted its way along, stillness was something it hated, but always seemed to find. i remember, standing, less tall than the trees, anguished red, but yellow between thoughts, watching as you drew your last breath, seeing you rise, like day, then surrender, like a shadow to night, knowing, myself, that tomorrow would never come again. i still see this today, in the lake's reflection, as i did in yours that day, and i see it in my own, it's the horizon of one's mind that draws the fine line between past and future, day and night, life and death, yet, there's something in the eyes that hides the truth, no one cares to see, yet i see, one last time, all fall still.