Call Me

Picturesque landscapes move past my memory
The energy dripping off my longing wet with misery
I watch stolidly as edler statesman trees
Stretch for the sun perched just out of reach
It’s rays peek between the entangled branches, fingers intertwined
The goal in mind is one of shared yet shaded heat
Leaves float, insipid, no direction of which to speak
Just slow and suffering journeys
To a less than thrilling end
Their destination set by the fickleness of wind and breeze.

I should be at ease in this place, the longing should be
Swaddled in this peace
Nurtured and satisfied in the arms of sun and natural life
Yet my heart barely whispers its stunted beat
Because the melody to which it loved to play is lost to me
Distant and incomplete
A voice now only heard in memory
A change in the rhythm and then-nothing
I reached an abrupt end to familiar song, only
The stilted echoing

And in this place of beauty, I regret that music
Wish I had never sang-instead
I stand in the midst of trees, and leaves, and breeze
Longing and
My song now quiet
In the beauty of my memories



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