AM (July,1975 / Indiana, United States)

The Ebb Of My Mourning

The ebb of my mourning is now waning.
My tears now mocking my heart shaped facade.

Need like a lovers branding invitation.
My response numb from breathless incantations.

Moon gloriously illuminating tragedies of days spent.
I long for the tenor of the sweet wind.

The barren winter is left undaunting.
I seek the shallow grave of my soul.

Spirit lies empty on a bed of dreams.
Color the gray dawn as mists spiral out.

My innocence was never this charming.
As the bleakness of sorrow floats on.

I miss now the call of the ocean.
Once I heard the sirens beckon for me.

The wind funneled inside my hollow.
Saved not yet my battle weary soul.

Fire then snaked around my memories.
Leaving embers to keep me warm.

Nature is all cold and lonely now.
Frost has my blooming radiance abhorred.

The spirit of my convictions is fading.
I watch as sacrosanct thoughts now close.

by A.J. McKinley

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