Tone Pome

Snow falling on the ground
Doesn’t make a sound
Paints a living portrait in the window
Of my living room

Speak when there is nothing left to say
When words evolve from clay
They sink into your bones
And they find a way to stiffen you
As they often do

I couldn’t hold a thought
A memory in rot
Now delicate and frail
Time, meet me in the pale
Alternating when
It soon begins to bend

Snow falling on the ground
Effervescent town
Riding in the spring to bring another wound
To bloom again

Fold in upon the Earth
Reverse internal birth
Reborn until the еnd
Catch, still a moving part
Weathering the start
Echoing a wrеn