D. M. Dale

April, 90- NYC
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Whispers on the Wind

As I lay here at night, in the soft pale moonlight
I hear from outside the wall,
The gusts, rapid and swift
The sound of your phantom call.

I think, wondering, waiting-
Is it my mind mistaking
The cold whipping wind
Which upon ride your whispers to me

Long gone from this earthly realm have you been
Whether Heaven bound, or eternally condemned
Six feet underground, lies your mortal skin.

When you left me, sudden, and alone
I could not fathom life without you
Now, you’re but decaying bone
Trapped in a vault of steel
‘Neath a weathered stone
Yet, I cannot heal.

Though I know, your voice will speak no more
I cannot help but to feel your presence
As if you’re about to enter my door
Standing and standing
Pounding and pounding
The wind whipping faster and faster than before

I lie here shaking
My heart nearly breaking
Faster and faster it beats
Making my mind spin as it has never spun before

Surely I am making this up, a delusion within me, shaking me to my core.

I can resist the temptation no more- I call out-

Are you there? I must know, please tell me, are you there, my love-

The anticipation of your words has me quaking, shaking with a vapid fear unlike that which I have never felt before-

Waiting and waiting, the breath in my lungs scraping..
Until the fear inside me is breaking from deep within and I can control it no more

‘SHOW YOURSELF, PHANTOM’ I roar!

Then, and only then, with dawn finally breaking-

The wind stops my shudders shaking,
Retreating, leaving me with nothing but silence, once more.
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