There is a certain quiet in
the falling snow which
I can never seem to find
within myself.
In this quiet lies
the love of I have for
my future children,
the love I hold in my heart for
my family, my friends,
and tears I cannot cry
for things I cannot
say.
I do not know what
it takes to solve the mystery of
silence.
But I do know that
silence
is what I strive
for.
How many tears can I try to cry
of love,
of sadness-vast as the things that will
never fall
out of my mouth and into
the air- until I
reach the quiet of the
falling snow,
holding all the things
my heart holds dear.
My legs stretch as far as they can
reaching for quiet
racing for a still mind
as restful
as (dis)quiet
as the
falling snow.
Lizzie Roberts