Lonely Whisper

Drifting we do from early bud, to all but ash and ground Happiness is a lonely whisper, Amongst this bustling crowd. Snap of fingers echo’s, from a hindsight setting hand, Dreams sit behind the cusp of yesterday’s forgotten, More lay waiting, beyond tomorrows remembered land.   Moments of content are few, as flakes in the autumn snow, … Continue reading Lonely Whisper