will you need me in the summer

will you need me in the spring?

and this slow moving requiem
each hit another nail in the coffin.

only the twisted moonlight
will restore
the red to my lips

don't peer your head around here.
you don't belong here.

Take your sorrows and confusion and be on your way.

This town has been cold and desolate since the singing birds have left.

you ran out of here. this was your choice.

christmas lights drape across these streets. each window is a painting.

the dragging sound of chains fills the alleys.

how many meters wide, how many feet deep
until you're stuck in the ground,
never to come around here again?

will you need me in the winter
will you need me in the fall?

the caravan moves on. the night air is bitter and unforgiving.

onwards I journey. MY oil lantern is the only heat and life here.

onwards. I stop for no one.

run, run from this empty place you once called home.

the broken windows and greyscale of this old wood will never bring the life and energy that once existed here.

the mice that scurry the floorboards and the squirrels that nest in the attic are all that you will have left.

don't try and convince me that this life can be restored.

the music is dead.

don't come peering your head around here.

you are not welcome.