Unfinished
Sharing only
the vestiges
Of the dreams
Wanting only
to
Somehow be
complete.
No measure
for success
And
No meaning
For failure
The hours of
my desperation
The quiet
ringing in my ears
Beside the
deafening roar of silence
In my soul
Alone against
the breath
Of summer
breeze
My fingers
touch the softness
Of the wrinkled
flesh
That once
lived passion
In my spring
and now
Awaits the
turning aspen
pd