Soft breezes whisper nothing in my ears,
Speak of the recesses of my mind
In which little grows
And some festers
The wind grows faster, wilder
Whips and pulls at the detritus in my heart
Coaxing the tar away
Freeing my breath
Until naught remains of the broiling pain
The freckled, frayed bleakness of my soul
But a sunlit shadow
And a dim memory
A Poem A Day 