Fishwidow by the shore
Prickly and fragile, selfish and solitary.
The wind still blows.
This shell,
No longer human.
A life lived in light and captured sound,
Another reflection.
Upon the mountain path I walk alone
When the Sun
Surely awaits, but don’t
Behold the wordless storyteller.
White noise is in the air
As you drift away.
A Life in Poems 