Spoken words will fail me.
Too often, I find that expressing myself with others around is difficult and awkward, leaving
me with aught but the pale images that I paint with words instead of what I wish to say.
My mind would have me say so many things to encourage and uplift, to bring joy to others;
my tongue doth not comply with these wishes, instead pouring forth only meaningless banter
and insipid, banal witticisims.
I wish to correct this; in offering, these few words.
::. Cold .::
My muse is weeping
for joy
she calls me to play
patient if you're willing
to be
my kind lady
meter and rhyming
a loss
the meaning is astray
who is choosing
not I
merely do I obey
…
cold wind tugging
my scarf
along a sea of grey
coat tails flapping
behind me
on another chill day
life wears on showing
no color
away from home I stay
smiling sunshine peeking
around
when you turn this way
bright eyes warming the
the room
like flowers in may
so strangely calming
the storm
what am I to say