Blind Review Friday.
The author shall remain anonymous (unless they chose to divulge themselves in the comments.)
Those commenting are also welcome to remain anonymous if they wish.
Incendiary comments will be removed.
If you would like your piece thrown to the wolves send it to firstname.lastname@example.org with "Workshop the hell out of this poem" as the subject line.
The wind whips gentle circles taking the last vestiges of
The dying season and scattering them along the empty streets
The rustling along the garden gate now creaks with the sound
Of winter as it weaves its chill threads around me
The hardened frost crunches beneath my feet.
Time is the bandit now stealing minutes and hours
Precious grains of hour-glass moments
Swiftly slipping through the neck of oblivion
As I race to capture them, rescue them
I wonder how much time we really have, you and I
I wonder if you too will irreversibly
Slip away from me as all else has.
For I see the changes coming in our lives
How Fate races hard to separate us
How I cling tightly hoping to stem the tide
The stolen kisses and whispered promises
The furtive but passionate embraces
Our separate private yearnings always left unspoken
We try to keep them desperately from dying away.
So many words are left unspoken, so many
Unmet desires and dreams left like wads of paper on the floor
Written words just abandoned, not forgotten
Just displaced so sadly by life’s circumstances
Where is this going I ask myself? Where will this all end?
For it feels like time hastens for some conclusion.
So I wend my way through this chill change
Trying to keep step with time's quickening pace
Not know when or where the change will meet me
Bracing myself for winter but yearning hopefully for spring
And knowing all the while I am racing, racing
Winter’s silent beat as it brings the chill winds of change
Rattling at my hearts inner door.