... . .. . . .

Whisper into my deaf ears,
Inebriated sweet youth,
A destined path to take.
Your obvious silence summons defeat
Like liars do when caught for
Lack of an even tongue.
Then scrutinize my worn body
through
Cold mirror stares
And tell me the way I'm taken
By love, life and pending death.
A plucked petal not yet fallen
Till it touches the ground.
I sing again the winter's promise.