In The Chill By My Windowsill I Sit Alone

Oh! How I despise dawn’s blushing optimism and dried hydrangea blooms sepia skinned and papery thin. Humdrum hands beat doldrums drum. Why won’t the summer solstice light this darkness? A gnawing hollow where my heart should be. Where cinder clouds float in negative space memories collect like nesting sparrows beneath eaves. I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss. Your death did steal my breath and heartbeat like a thief while October’s wind trembled aspens like harp strings. (Ten Poem Titles) The Corruption Of My Lust For Life Autumn Side Of September Mundane Matters Of Mortals Theft Of My Will To Survive In Woes And Throes Of Sorrow A Vanilla Dove Escape Of The Bluesman’s Song The Sham Of My Humanity Death Is The Bane Of My Existence The Shedding Trees Of Autumn