The whispers dissipate
Like shadows, melting
On frosted window panes
And the words free fall
Like snowflakes filling in
A million hollow footsteps
Where will the tears go
Or the laughter we sowed
Where will the kisses land
Or the hugs that we loved
Where will the words go
When all the ears go deaf
Where will I go
When nothing is left
HASTYWORDS 
The kind of questions only depression and loss can ask.
BTW my friend, you are writing up a storm and it is good to see.
LikeLike
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
HASTY – Questions depression asks
LikeLike
Love the black fingers Hasty. This image is good for sparking ideas for my 4th book, The Archeologist and the Wedding. 😀 She has to fight some kind of demon that she and Quinn find in Edinburgh, I’m still plotting it. thanks Randy Brown
LikeLiked by 1 person
That sounds fantastic
LikeLike