Stitched Poem of Lost Word

  

A word came to my mind today in chimes

where wood reeds stood sand tall in pairs

like lovers spun in airy tales of olden times

when hearts sang of heather seed prayers.
 

But the word flew past as echoes’ remains,

rang void vacuumed sound inside the gaps,

hollows down from which arise sad refrains,

and compressed steely safes, worded traps.
 

No words came by today in orange branches

only windy specks prickling chapped cheeks;

a sun stole glitter flecks on roofs of mansions

and barren pop songs dribbled old lyric leaks.
 

Language lost mourns words gone dry before

a poem’s purl through a keyhole’s open door.

 

photo credit: http://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/