White journey

Hurriedly I walked
in a shawl of fine,
glittering air.
As ivory I stood
- a target, hunted
by the cool kiss
of the wind.

Ice in the trees,
mist in the air,
floating just out
of reach.
The church caped
with fresh snow-
a beacon of light.

I reached the end
of my road, just
before the tyres
struggled to grip
or the snow posed
a threat.

Innocence

'Dumb regrets;
red-glowing
the flames from you envelop me, even as
borne on from care to care, I near the sill
of sleep.'
-Umberto Saba, Ashes.

When I was a
pink fleshed baby.
I was speechless,
unable to hurt you.
My words were
light, bright-
unattached to life.
Alone they could
do no harm.

Only as poems
addressed to you,
do they cause injury.
As you try to read
hidden meanings between
the lines, although
there are none.
Everything I write
in black and white.
Is printed proof in
front of your eyes.
Undeniable.

If there was any place
which you could forget.
The broken pulsations
of your heart and discard
the sorrow from your eyes,
whilst you read.
You'd shrink into that
aimless embryo of a man,
lie once again in the
womb of your mother.
And forget that I ever
existed.

White Lies

'What I believe, I'll wail'
-Macbeth

You hate this time of year
when the leaves free- fall from trees
abandon their homes, displace order.

You despise the fading sun
in the earlier hours of dusk,
denying natures law.
Take it as a sign- a bad omen.

You cannot understood
that people change,
sometimes for the better,
sometimes for the worse.

You fear the trees
caped in frost, frozen-
crystallising a moment in time.
Proudly displaying; the unscheduled weather.
With no rules or prophecy.