seasons small places to reside in.
Autumn falling in every sphere on earth, but none
more touching than within this sad, small heart,
wanting to touch sights I see, to feel sounds I hear.
Ringing across my sight, I feel vibrations touching
my heart, making it stir in anticipation of a new
world beyond what I have seen.
Knowing the emptiness of penetrating desire, alone,
empty, expired within.
Sights and sounds dead, no feelings or hints of
tomorrow alive; just the corpse of a small child
now grown and gone in just one moment of death to
behold.