this is all I want to say

it isn't me, who

makes grass green, snow white, rain wet,

for you.

your feet listen

mournful whisper

of autumn leaves.

wind tells me tales I don’t want to hear,

I drown in deafness 

that was before the memory,

wind brought the rain, 

again,

handful, against my window.

sitting on the floor,

knees to my chin,

I hum a song.  stillness stretches

between four walls.

gray mist prowls outside the locked door

c: NinaKO@10/29/12