Down calls the mountain
the soft fogs of former rains
Hiding river gray

Drowned in a fountain
let free, flow a thousand pains
Softly bleeding May

Born amongst the ghosts
that blow the winds through willows
Sheltered miles of rust

Crowned, the snow cloud boasts
of all the treasures he throws
down to winters lust

Out eased the blue bird
nesting so safe in the shade
to soar like a god

Though their words aren’t heard,
the blooms shout out as they fade
Mocking voice for fraud

Last to fall for fear
that it might not touch the ground,
that single leaf sways

Broken on their ears,
waves sigh for themselves the sound
haunting darkest days

Poetry from Ink and Emotion by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback now on Amazon.com

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