Silence; that graveyard discipline Speaks lots louder that noise
Silence with reverence, natural power; A background sounding crickets’ scratches, Birds brags, frosty flaps of trees’ branches; The beauty of nature hooked by gentle winds’ blows, Cools my heart growing too big for chest care Happiness it renders
I seat in controlled corner of wood; A place silent; a graveyard, As it whispers in an ear of me coiled.
It softly cites poetry; the future; The tomorrows; the dreams; The only sweet I must now sweat for And it tells patience, enthusiasm, wisdom; The virtues in which the sweet lies rouse, It advises them to kiss, caress my body down; To feed my plain brain with fertile life; To fondly push me into a created cradle; The real realms of braced bliss _a stanza I, they should wallow in for life
Silence, that discipline for graves; Respect for my dad’s tomb, death; A bee; a trumpet blown for victory, Speaks lots untold louder than noise.