#YearEndEchoes

Silence, the whispers of a down trodded soul
The ink splashes on the empty pages,
Her hands unable to shape to her mind's stories,
A splatter of tangled words.

Her thoughts moulds the darkness
The lingering scent of Mid June's traumas
A cold night's racing thoughts,

September springs blossoms hope,
And November stole it all ,
For June had came to it's cold hellos.

Muted, are the words of a down trodden soul
The ink has lost all it's power,
For she had given it no strength, no backward glance,
The stories are left unsaid, to a mind's disappointment
Words wrapped in the pessimistic comfort.

December brings upon the wishes,
Courage builds within the fire, a glow of optimistic beginnings
June had not come in fear of the raging heat,
Warmth by the summer shine, there stood hope strong,
Another year's prospective and a past's reflection

Loud, are the voice of a growing soul
The ink has ran it's course, filled are the pages of the New Year diary,
And cheers to the hand's who wrote the mind's stories,
Therefore, applause to the words that had kissed her under the mistletoe .

For Loud is the voice of Tomorrow.

@Mira9970

(Pick above taken by the writer herself)



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