Our Life Is a Poem

life is a guesthouse, no one overstays their welcome. As background music slowly muffles into softer tones, breaths struggle to appease. Deep painful faint sighs, fall like crumbling leaves - I'm vulnerable like a naked tree. Autumnal eyes gaze towards my looming winter garden. Heart is a paper bag of emotions, now full of leftover crumbs - where spring once merged with summer petals. Mind is a vague collection of recollections and reflections - forgotten memories, unfulfilled promises, words lost in silence. Destiny tested with her games. I am still a humble child, with no care for winning, nor losing - settling for her stalemate. Regret is that untraveled path, not following the signs - reluctant to feast from the garden of her Eden - pondering if it was worth the sin. Now so many watery eyes, resonate like violin tears. Brown, green and blue - but I do not see hers. Motionless with shivers and chills, Lights are dimming, silence is manifesting. In haziness, silhouettes appear, as life begins to disappear - I can barely hear the music. Our life is a poem, each beat of our hearts a drop of ink. Some leave behind words, some blank pages. Simple Musing Silent One 20 September 2020