Poem
In my aged mind, those happy times rehearse
a sweet memory of a childhood summer.
I lose the veil which includes time,
for in my mind
the black bird flies.
A sheet of paper, with no meaning,
compelling words lost in a silent world.
The longest teardrop makes its fall,
the destination
beyond my grasp.
The cold creeps in and I am overcome
as I walk the path that’s been laid before me,
enigmas clothed in conundrums.
Despite all of the tears,
no one will cry.