Greg Fisk

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The Silent Clambering Of Words Unspoken

The silent clambering of words unspoken.
Pressing flesh and bone into the cold.
Promises left broken.
A dire despair embraced by melancholy moments which ebb and flow.
The seeds of happiness left to sow.
Through the tempest lay the dreams incomplete.
The howling wind sings the dirge of her mortal parts.
An empty shell lay bare. A herald to the maternal heir, a sign to right my way.
Now there is nothing but silence, a quiet chasm.
The dream fades...
...Will mine?

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