I wither slowly in her arms,


    Here at the edge of dreams,


    An auburn-haired shadow


    roaming like a fantasy


    through the singing spaces


    in the gold-flecked summer shade,


    serenaded by sparrows


    and lyrebirds echoing


    the song of the sea.


    No more than a memory,


    here in this grave-silent


    emptiness.


    The spirit passes them by


    and even their shadows


    fall silent


    stunned by her beauty


    before resuming


    their fading song


    as we languish beneath


    the dull music of the sun,


    and the undulations


    of the empty rhythms


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.of these vacuous days:


    The quiet moments


    that exist without love''s music


    are filled only


    with the sighs


    of a longing heart.


    I turn my face to the west


    where a pale light


    burned on the horizon.


    I wander the


    grey strand in search


    of hope,


    amidst the


    The silent spaces,


    through far-folded mists,


    I tread the pallid sea


    in the frail morning light,


    hoping that this silence


    will shatter with the


    quiet song, the gentle rhythms


    of a long-forgotten


    wondrous melody.


    Walk with me,


    into the mist


    and the stillness


    And bask in the quietly fading


    moonlit ephemera


    of our mortal lives.