LONELY SOUNDS:

Walking away from the hurdy-gurdy, hum-drum bustle of life,

In search of the lonely sounds, taking me away from all strife,

To the lost lonely call of the hawk, as it soars up high in the sky,

To the crackle of the last burning embers, as the fire ebbs & dies.

The crashing of the seas & oceans, upon cockled & salt brined rocks,

Streams running over stones, where old suns are eternally blocked,

Through dark woody forests, where the last of summer leaves drop,

To the rustling of trees & their tears, as the autumnal raindrops plop.

And I hear the soft falling of the squirrel´s last & sad harvested nut,

The calling of the leaving geese & the deer in their hot forested rut,

Whispering breeze, through the fingers of dried & wheaten sheaves,

Call of those Black Mountain winds & the whine as they tightly squeeze.

Upon faraway stars, the lonely wolf´s howl at the dead-night moon,

I hear that spade deep-digging, at the wet, cold & grey-stoned tomb,

The snow sodden footsteps, silent in the colourless & icy winter blur,

The plodding paws upon cruel cobbles, of the poor & the lonesome cur.

Slow soft dripping of grey raindrops, weeping down cheeks of the pane,

And the painful crying of the beast, as he lies dying alone on the plains,

Carefully & with dread, I tread through these distant & very lonely sounds,

Listening deeply to my heart, that place where my old soul softly pounds.

That lonely & sad “goodbye,” as my sons walked out of their childhood door,

The tearful “adios”, as in the parting of love & “I do not love you anymore”,

The final farewell, of the departing loved one´s last gasping breath, sighing,

Lonely sounds coming together, in last prayer, upon the tongue of the dying.