walking shell

overhead a crow cries

as he sits in the garden, softly

each breath like an ocean

surging gently

in, out,


thoughts rattle in his brain

cracking, like the guns from a nearby time

he watches them whistle by

they were someone he knew

long ago, and drifted apart;


flowers burst from the hedges

he see’s them,

a mockingbird gently sings

he hears it,

his heart quietly beats


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