Unspoken Intent
Of place and our time
Do untold thoughts align.?
When the space of word,
Able to be uttered; herd.
Our tasks at hand.
They shift as if light upon a Window in a summer rains distraction.
Some are to gather,
Some are to share,
Others are left,
Departing; on the air.
Kept of our silence prone,
standing.
Doubting the possible.
The bold to leave,
Unsaid of true intention.
Nor possessing the sand
to bring such; to mention.
Copyright © Julian Buckrell | Year Posted 2020
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