vignettes of time, captured landscapes,
life quilled upon passing seasons,
gifts and treasures collected
tucked into memories' dusty corners,
filling the soul's bookshelf...
but sometimes there comes a moment
unnoticed and slipping
quietly into its own silence...
it will have no tomorrows,
no memory to ease the emptiness
of regret or words to paint upon
a bare canvas, no poetry to still
the heart, and no whisper
to drift upon the wind...
instead there is only the lingering silence
and a moment that will never
breathe again...
it might have been a song, perhaps
a dream or a poem never
written... it might have been
simply a memory...