To A Child

The trees outside,
at this moment,
are where they are,
wordless,
all their lives.
But who’s to say
what the wind makes,
what it takes
to caress,
to bring out into the open
the silence that never closes
but stays.
But this man,
he says nothing
and lies.

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s