We stumble along, believing we hold the map
Believing we guide our path or someone does somewhere
From the darkness to the light and back
The bird flies through the drinking hall and is gone
Leaving memories, echoes and silence
All we are is memories and echoes
All we can do is try to fracture the silence.
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Cheesesellers Wife 
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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:)
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Wait; there’s a map? I suppose the BEST poets MIGHT fracture the silence, but actually BREAK it? Hmmmm; I doubt it.
You keep coming as close as anyone, though.
Write on Sister.
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Why, thank you Ron — that is much appreciated.
Being English, I’ve gone all embarassed now….. :)
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