Wednesday, 11 September 2013


In the breath of birth, I hear soft relieved sighs,
When mother first hears her new baby´s cries,
Child grows, leaves home & mother sadly sighing,
With them, taking her love, leaving her inside dying.

Oh for those saline sighs, of ocean´s whispering waves,
And those I hear on sepia pages, of old ancestral slaves,
Autumn´s echoing breath, in the dying rustling of leaves,
As they bid saddened farewell to their mothers, the trees.

The slight breathing of breezes, upon winter´s damp cheek,
As entering deep forests, my old soul, I do desperately seek,
Oh for those sighings of wild iced winds & winsome lost nights,
Of lover’s sweet breathings, claiming their lustful dark rights.

With the swooning silk sighs, under the warm nights of June,
Slight breath of bats wings, beneath magnolia-creamed moon,
And in the praying to God, humbled, in my last bated breath,
I feel gentle winged sighing, slight, in the soft nuance of death.

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