I write the roads, I
walk on,
but lately they've been bare.
My words have been reduced
to silver-
wire puppet strings, and I
am here, dancing
to chilling sounds
of my Soul's own
vibrations, my Mind's own
vexations. One
chord, one resonant hum
to keep me going
down
white, wind-less roads and I
don't write
azure skies to gaze
on, dreaming, without
you. There's
no comfort, destination, warmth
or meaning in the hue
And these
words form only shadows
of how really I feel for you, but they
write
the roads I walk on, though
lately,
they've been bare. |