Through The Twilight, Dimly
In the quiet chambers of my mind, a strange comfort blossoms from the thoughts I cradle. Like weathered palms, etched with the nuances of…
In the quiet chambers of my mind,
a strange comfort blossoms from the thoughts I cradle.
Like weathered palms, etched with the nuances of every past season,
these crackled daydreams bear witness to the changes
etched in the tapestry of my childhood.
Faint reflections scrawl on the darkened walls of my mind.
Woven like wefts in the intricate skein of life’s fabric.
I glimpse the child who once mirrored my essence,
recalling conversations never had,
falling victim to the deceit of the waking dawn.
No white crosses will mark their passing;
instead, simple memories will sip
from the cup of a sleepless night.
In hushed moments, I strain to hear your echo,
letting the delicate mist of memories caress your face.
The wind, playful in its touch,
carries me to unnamed places,
where pain, once shredded,
raged against thwarted plans.
Yet, growing wisdom tempers life’s stings,
and even the regrets, once festering in the shadows,
are now fading whispers of the past.
I observe the circular sky,
where sun and moon take turns to rise,
resting beneath the golden glow of their beams,
inhaling the sweet fragrance of tuberose.
Still, within the embers of my grieving soul,
memories burn of a woman
whose presence I sadly miss.