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
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