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camilionkd — Trouts Confidential Files: Interlude
Published: 2017-12-11 08:26:04 +0000 UTC; Views: 216; Favourites: 2; Downloads: 0
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Soft is the light that flies through the treetops
Gentle is the breeze that caresses thy skin
Whisper does wind atop the rocks
Ragged is the sound of waves
The murmur of the fishes run deep
And the shallows of the water do keep,
The bodies from so long ago.
Weak is the heart that breaks too fast
Tortured by memories that do last.
A mother does not cry for the destruction she wrought
The father does not turn from the revelation he sought,
“The blood on my hands is not mine,” he whispers, voice shaky and loose,
And even when gentle touches press against his bones too deep
Denials are on his lips, redder than clay,
Urgencies that they do not obey,
“Don’t tell mother,” he tries to say,
But red is his tongue and red is the sand,
Steep is the worry,
Slow is his heartbeat and thin is his bones,
Too small and too fragile,
Too weak on his own.
The morning does sing,
Jagged is the knife,
Embedded deep in his back.
Slow is the comfort,
And harsh is the light.
No night shade can hide his secrets tonight.
Slow is the tide
And slow is his heart
Red are their hands and silver is his,
Slow comes the blame,
But grateful is the heart,
Weak is the bones,
It had been him who did fall apart
Soft is the wind of days long gone
Easy comes the night,
but harsh comes the sun.
Slow is his voice,
With tears in his eyes does he say,
“I love you”
