When there are no words.
Silence manages an audible
That tricks the mind into believing
That the mind’s thinking is faulty,
That its thoughts, (oh, how vain
the contemplation) are not Everyman’s thoughts,
but rather the lone musings of the poet–
misunderstood today just like
they were yesterday.
And the daffodils handle
Better than winter had ever even tried–
Spoiled flowers with their earthy, exotic scents
Nod gently at the passage of time
Then wither away.