And all
within
Grass dying
beneath yellow leaves
Thoughts
hang in the mist
Like cartoon
balloons
As I read
them
They drift
and they seek
They gather
and touch
They say
much too much
Strange
gifts are they
Gathered
such
Loose words
all true
Yet others
forget
Move away
As I breathe
in the day
Have I lost all
relief
Can I bring
back the thief
Stolen
thoughts
Tethered
here
In their
grief
Quiet the
mist
The surface
of each
The shapes
and words
Float
beneath
The lost
The absurd
What meaning
They serve
I fail to
grasp
What they
teach
© Tony
Whitford 11/29/2016
