Wintry Silence

Limping on in the middle of the night,
I think of my children huddled by the fire,
reading books and stroking the kittens.

I think of my wife, bustling around,

my home, the smell of fresh biscuits;

those butter biscuits that melt on your tongue.

My home with all its warmth;

my family, together.

"Wish I was home!"

I say to myself aloud,

while I limp on, on this chilly night.

Do they ever think of me I wonder? My children.

Do they deem me a worthy father?

Do they wish my sofa by their fire wasn't empty?

Do they wish I had stayed?

Ah! Winter rekindles old memories.

This hanging silence, this cutting chill,
this empty street awaken the past.

Bearing the weight of fresh snow, the fence 

watches as I limp on amid 

this silence.

This naked, cold, wintry silence. 

Sorry As Sorry Can Be

Woe to words,

burdensome and treacherous!

Hard to learn,

easy to please,

pleasy to ease.

What sense does it make?

Feeling cold in winters
and hot in summers?

Big words,

small words;

turds.

Don't care,

blue bear,

do care.

A million things left unsaid,

to the undead;

said

to the dead.

Sweet Melancholy

a pool I ask the builder to build

in the back of my house, beneath that tree

why the back? the builder asks

do as you're told!

i plan to fill my lovely pool

with a black and silver liquid

of melancholy

i have stored it all in bottles of wine

green and red and blue

all filled with my black silver melancholy

ill pour it all into my brand new pool

so I can make room for more

room for more