Tuesday, January 23, 2007

This

is the screaming loneliness
when old home is deathly silent
in the overcast afternoon.

As the setting year is blown forth
with a chill that even the sun
cannot bear for more than a few hours

family's ever distant, the moments scant,
and friends can't reconnect, recant
the dots and lines in our faces.

The dials on clocks spinning
wheel within wheel in seeming perpetual
motion while the quiet commotion

in the room removes our awareness
of each other's place, each other's pace
of love, life, and fateful loneliness.

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