I waded through birch trees
winter dead and whispering in the cold.
The quiet loud in its announcement,
echoed in dark corners
I thought I had spoken out loud
and requested the calm answer my presence.
Tombstones, heavy with foreboding.
Unmarked graves and secrets kept
from nights with glow of fire and steam rising from tea.
Candlelight dances and shadows stretch as a hand
grasping those who enter
the floor wood succumbing with step.
A guest and a guest within
speaking with languid speech
and shallow of thought
And thought capture and imprison
Each day replacing the day before
Day before no more days.
NoExit cjh 2018.