No longer wishing 
to roar content 
with whispers to
those who listen 
the rustling leaves 
of my fall
play a music
few will hear 
my years now 
a comfortable porch
and the kind
of sun that 
warms never burning

Finally it’s mine 
back to mine 
this heart that 
was thine it’s 
back to being 
mine it’s a
sign that it’s 
time this rhyme 
no longer chimes
back in mind
this thing a
little heart that’s 
made of twine 

It is the quietest
of people who are 
the wisest for they
have listened to others 
spew nonsense and decided
that a revving mouth 
doesn’t get any further 
than one in neutral 

Snowy start today
someone dusted porch
like it’s pastry
slippery beneath slippers 
just enough for 
pause too much 
for paws stop
we do too
back inside hurry 
where it’s warm
to cup bowl 
coffee and kibble 
me and pal

I have retired 
my lips from 
others be it
kiss or conversation 
my lips now
just mine smile 
in the mirror 
knowing once that 
they belonged to 
others and their 
whispers did too
but their secret 
silence is mine