this restless mind of man meanders
spinning silken strand striations
beyond the flesh and bone had formed
and in this web of situations
is captured lust and love and hate
contained in unsaid conversations
in lost desires uncommunicated
for mortal souls have reservations
and cannot hold all threads in hand
whether conscious or unplanned.

My River

I miss my river
grey though she
ebbs and flows
slowly lapping
with a kind
of resignation
as she dwells
upon her glories
past and famed
but still
I miss her sounds
her accent rare
and noises off
banks north and south
the songs she sang
and those not sung,
her lack of airs
despite her graces
which other
grander courses
of well renown
present, these
only make her
feel right
and me feel right
in turn