Lost.

Words wander the mind’s wasteland
congregate by the wayside,
peer through windows
at each and every one of us.

Meaning ebbs from blinded eyes
deafening silence echoes off the page,
aching for the quill to scratch it’s itch
pleading for the ink to flow.

Hear the melody hurt with beauty
black and ivory entwined,
the encore of what once was
and here she lies, fading embers.

Severance upon the lips of passer-by’s,
no click, click, click of keys
tapping out the ultimate demise
as sadness haunts the betrayed.

Steeples fall without grace or virtue
cobwebs weep with the touch of rain,
the wind ceases to howl
leaving nothing but an empty landscape

Lost.

© 2009 Michaela James.