It’s the quiet that kills me.
Your voice erupts within my brain and
The cherry blossom trees in my view
Aren’t as lovingly pink.
They no longer dance against the breeze
And allow their soft petals
To fall around me…
The tree branches still haven’t grown all their leaves.
Every single one appears more dead than alive.
Feel like winter.
The geese swim across the pond
Just like we were at one time.
They search for food
And give each other comfort
Time passes and the rare birds
Blue jay and Cardinal
Fly around in search of wherever their home may be
Lost perhaps, or maybe not lost at all
But it’s my peace.