A Mosaic
Of silver shards.
Behind the smile and the style,
Behind the mind in motion,
Thoughts concealed not revealed,
They are deeper than the ocean.
Fears and tears are in arrears,
Transparency is tired,
Mirrors and reflections,
Pass by and then collide.
Pieces of the past,
Lie scattered on the ground,
A mosaic of silver shards,
That hardly makes a sound.
Then a whistle in the trees,
How long will it last?
The wind blows back the reveries,
And symbols of the past.
I see my life in semaphore,
The flags are hard to discern,
Lost between the here and yon,
When will they return?
I sit and gaze, at the last blaze,
Of the setting sun,
Then pause and pull up the coverlets,
Of silk somebody spun.
Then a trace of her face,
Passes behind a smile,
That once was always there,
Now, it only lasts a while.
I passed you in the passageway,
Walking down the aisle,
Now you reside where thoughts hide,
Behind the smile.
©
David Rudder
2024
Thank you for reading this piece and my poetry.
