* Autumn Squalls: Seasons Fall Tempest

I miss you! I miss you! I miss you! Screams banshee wind! Splatter spatter of rain gusted upon frosted streaming window pane. Nails drum strike homeless portal blown battered stand tormented trees. Weep wethered keening banshee wind weep all-solemn ash-coloured shroud mist. Fugitive. Flee. Rush On. Without Rest. Forever searching forever transient forever recalling memory achingly lost. Sighing through winter woods haunting is windblown soulless lost chilling call. Try Try To Hide. Hide. Refuge! Never! Is place found! To hide haunted heart within affirmation entombed memory. Like a tide beached soulless mariner travel wethered wind ever howling teeth ever biting biting biting cold steel into time blistered back. Always hear same sound echo high-heeled footsteps walking away. Shimmers hair streams golden about sublime strapless shoulders body thins like ephemeral vapour vanishing before last choked gasp. Relentlessly receding leaving sight while emptiness absolute gushes in filling void with imploding atom blasting misty melancholy entropy. Try I Try To Forget Forget bury mind among scattered leaves. Seal lost traitor mine memory within painless timeless vault. To forge bile spleen anger hate against name graven in red flame searing enamoured spitted flesh. Written in bleak stone winter pervading chilling dying ember ghost wrought heart beating across oppressively tormented mind. Relentlessly love redeeming resurfaces cracking jagged twisted force impacted ice. Breaks broken ever further afflicted apart ice-breaker thrusting precipitous fractured floes. Breaking barrier thrown ice-fields between love ever reborn renews. Agony. Rebirth. Born ever naked rebirth. Upon rising memory. In every each enforced breath lurid brink is miraculously born imagery love lorn agony preceding bitter departure birth. Wethered wind still is banshee blown ever searching out own shroud soul. While mine own love stormed soul is carried forth upon fierce floodwaters. Flame is lost visual vision. Floodgate tear misted wax waning melted memory. Residue hot. Wethered wind still sucks dripping ripping forth lost wethered souls. Lost water logged souls. Hear their shroud desolate haunting cries echo within. Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light) Copyright © Terence George Craddock