darkness, clinging to glass,
dregs of last night
desperate to stay
despite the day
pink hues behind trees
peeking through
prying, the sunlight
posing for eye flash
vacantly elegant ways,
vacationers’ night cap
validating sleepiness
Victorian showpieces
never ending bird chirps
normalising serenity
neutralising pain
neither here nor there
calmly, under shadows
cries of the wee morn
catching the light
cat strolling by
rows of hardy green
shoving their faces on mine
driving down the aisle
He didn’t know what it meant
when, eyes pitiful,
doctor said:
parkinson’s
common disease
wrecks, wracks lives
yet much to hope—
apparently.
She didn’t know what it meant
when, eyes screwed,
husband whined
deafness
another sign of age
comes to all, all in good time
one ear to another
infecting.
When her walk faltered
as staff he stood
to lean and to love
supporting.
She showed, never told
as his ears waned
for speech had lost
sensibility.
Trembled her throat
only trebles escaping
with none to talk
the mute.
World fell silent
as extinguished flame
calmed his mind
undisturbed.
They didn’t know what it meant,
a balance in life,
for time deemed obsolete
communication.
an openly gashed
hollowness, as within you,
lives in nature too
Time, all in good time,
shows bubbling beauty beneath
youth floweriness
The Chaos Within 