MOURNFUL SOLITUDE

The soul of the dead creeps over me
I am weak
I am wanting
Walking in a dead sleep
Silence, deafening over my being

I come in haste
No softly plucked chords to
Sooth my troubled mind
I lose myself in silence

I grow bare
A small dark hole
Mournful solitude
I embrace the night
The dead, the silence
My soul has no words
To speak
Hollow, empty

Inside turns to outside
From fields of green to
Weathered, lifeless
The season of winter takes over
The heart once warm.
Torn.

Copyright: Jade Moore