A  flock  of  wild  geese
have  just  flown  by.

Very  pleasing  
to  the  eye.

I'm  in  the  heart
of  nature  here.

Quite  content
with  little  fear.

Mother  nature  works  away
something  new  turns  up  each  day.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK. 2016.

I have so many words for you,
That I'm choking on them.

And so many unshed tears,
That I'm drowning in them.

My heart is bleeding,
You're killing me.

She was constantly shedding flowers,
Falling from locks of hair,

People always stepping on them,
As they didn't see them there.

.

I play my guitar,
now crying in sevens
a cold vacant morning
with rain on the ground

Sorrowful chords,
on the strings of emotion
in three quarter tear drops
where sadness is bound

                                   And the storm clouds they form
                                   on the edge of tomorrow
                                   with thoughts ever yearning
                                   for your melodies

                                  dreaming of yesterdays
                                  caught in the feedback,
                                  out of tune longings
                                  in lost harmonies

Breathing in silence
of fret seperations
seeking a songlist
of lyrics unfound  

A chill strums my heart,
sitting empty and hollow
I play my guitar
and there isn’t a sound

Up and down the road again,
following the twists and turns
in hope to achieve and gain
I ride on though my eyes burn

My hopes painted inside my mind
where in loops past and future runs
behind the clouds my star shines
I look through it though my eyes burn

I had held too many I could pocket,
now tell less tales, became a taciturn,
hanged those round my neck in a small locket,
I keep quite though my eyes burn

The storm has done damages enough
from the winds and waves I learned
even small ships can deal with the rough
I clean the deck *though my eyes burn