i thought that i could find myself in slivers
of emerald and oak, pathways of leaves
and so i ventured into the woods of your
familiar dust-warmed fairytales
an avid quester.
i thought that i could find myself in cadences
of your rich chords, sweeping the empty corners
of an interlude’s silence, but perhaps i was lost
in the harmony of your elegy
a spellbound voyager.
i thought that i could find myself in echoes
of your ash-gray mansion, floating into forgotten rooms
cobwebbed and thick with memories, empty cupboards
phantom hearts and faces
a sorrowing wayfarer.
i thought that i could find myself in death
the forlorn knell of a final day, an hour, a minute
a second of time, but the last grain slipped, fell –
i did not think of you or i, but
the colour
of the fading sky.
Poet's Corner 