Inside

The words are whispered
So no one is able to hear
“I am tired” not meant
For anyone’s ear’s

So we plod on
In a world we live
Amongst many others
With little left to give

Stoic Poetry

Twilight Serenade

The ghost of summer fades
Lost butterfly on failing wings
Fly your last in the cold chill air
Fading as if you were never there

A path that is so erratic
Yet you try to find your way
So much like everyone else
Looking for the way ourselves

Stoic Poetry