thelibraryrooms

White knuckles breach her fist
As she twists against the chair
Her feet kick the keys beneath
She is breathless

Sweat sticks to the seat
Her brain swallows the question
She’s blanked out
Should she ask you to repeat?

Ocean roar
Anxiety
Waves clash
She finds oxygen
Breathes deep

“Pardon?”

He would be better than the Major Oak
He’d be green all year round
He’d have a host of small things living in him
And would hold parties beneath his boughs
He’d be so tall aeroplanes would navigate round him
On foggy days his lights would bring you home
He would be the best tree that you would ever see

it’s dark outside
you listen to past music
you’re not quite lost
but any moment
the sounds of eighties pop
might be replaced
with sad sighs
and silence

You are invincible
Life without corners
Stretched out before you
No looking back
A straight track

The era of silence
Now we are hushed
We hide our words
Behind that wall
We are silent

An experiment with words occurs
Each time we meet

Tap, tap, tap

After two days of sun
Spring brought the snow
To blanket your ground
There were no mourners
To grant you the dignity of grief
They mourned instead fresh lives
Lost in mountains far from here

Their silent weeping mocked
A history rewritten for our world
Modern, media rich fascination
With a past that glances back
At events that never happened
While the stream of things
Buffers and splutters on

If you had been there
I would have known
Instead we watched alone
Wrapped our grieving into
Blackened and darkened hearts
Until the silt of our tears choked us
And broke our sorrow into tattered rags

We drank wine and wept
When he died
And yet
He would not have wanted
That we cried

Dazed from waking
Daylight saves you
From nightmare-deep sleep