Forgetting

Looking back
I just can't relate

All always seems to go away
through the weaving winds,
Having the day doused
with a sweet lemon scent

Th pages come to read clearly,
allowing for thought to take form,
From the swerving waves
to the endless days

So from leaf to green
the grip is formed,
tuning the growling chimes
with a whispered light

And with a sole stare
There lays nothing there