This is a day of silence,
When birds don’t even sing,
And rivers do not gargle over stones.
Way out on the island
Swans tuck their heads into their wings –
While on the reeds, not a puff of wind is blown.
It is as if a phantom
Had appeared before the dawn,
Searching for any sound
That dares to thread;
And those that know of loneliness,
Will feel their sorrow more today,
Remembering the passing of their dead.
There will be no flags flying at my funeral,
Only leafs waving goodbye;
If they look to you like captured birds,
I ask you please to let them fly.
© (Löst Viking) (1st November 2015) John Anthony Fingletonhttps://www.facebook.com/pages/Löst-Viking/746104845419195