Sites

The Dream

I write this as though you stood before me,
Against a backdrop of heavy snow and winter night.
I remember this dream well--
Your hair falling perfectly
Around your neck and shoulders; the snow
Falling around us and upon us.
In a moment you will kiss me, and
I will Discover anew what it means to be in love.
The trees keep our company,
Guarding the silence.

A Refrain

There is a composition of things untold,

waiting to be expressed in unfamiliar refrain.

That which moves one to speak

knows not the end towards which it moves.

It cannot.

Silence, though, is not tragic

unless one perceives it as such--

for to communicate is not necessarily to speak.

Words are unessential, dispensable.