behind blind eyes
lies a different perception.
a new wonder of the world
i keep in my recollections
on a black canvas.
the memories squande
r and the vision fades
to a character that festers
a displeasure in taste.
the residue of a tingy tree,
resting in the remains
of bleeding leaves
. remebering the season
in the soul of my eyes.
still.... i cannot see.
my childhood embraced
its death as beauty,
evry branch rigid and angled,
crying its leaves,
awaiting the barren frost...
amongst other things.
challenging each day
it loses its sheen,
its lovely corpse
stands in the dying spring.
I still a struggle to decipher
the image of that being
i just sit back to the tune
of the birds whispering.
i long for the day
ill remember that tree.
the golden crisp
of the autumn breeze
is all i have to comfort me