Sounds

The sounds of yesterday echo and taunt, though faded away some tunes I still want. The sounds of the now tug at my ears, and remind me somehow of foreboding fears. The sounds of tomorrow creak still unheard, in the church-bells of sorrow and the last final word. I stare at the earth and hear its' live cry, and wonder what worth is it all just to die. I hear the timid and meek whispering in silence, fearing to speak or shout their defiance. O'er my head there flies honking geese in togetherness, on the ground too are honking aggitations of loneliness. And imaginary sounds sigh on my bed, of love in soft pounds I tune my ear but they fled. For the only sound there is my silent scream, O to be just anywhere where this nnoise is unseen.