by group 2

A stillness holds the air, a weight upon my chest,

Where words, like shadows, find no place to rest.

My heart, a worn-out thing, a fragile, silent plea,

Holding secrets, meant for only thee.

A mountain rises high, of all I cannot say,

And whispers vanish, lost along the way.

My eyes, they plead a story, in a silent, watchful stare,

Begging for your notice, beyond compare.

A strange and bitter sweetness, a nearness far away,

We're close as breaths, yet distant, come what may.

The quiet hum of sorrow, a heavy, muffled sound,

Where hidden hopes, like broken things, are found.

A touch, a fleeting moment, a gesture small and brief,

A world of meaning, beyond belief.

"It's nothing," a soft whisper, a gentle, hidden lie,

While storms of feeling, deep within me, cry.

"A little," a mere fragment, a fragile, thin disguise,

Concealing vast emotions, in my downcast eyes.

These feelings, they repeat, a silent, echoing call,

These feelings, like a story, destined not to fall, or rise at all.

A presence, yet an absence, a space between our hands,

Where silent sentences, like shifting, unseen sands,

Are carried by the wind, and never understood,

A silent, aching language, in the quiet solitude.

TITLE: "RUNNING WATER”

(ONOMATOPEIA)

Water plops into pond

Splish-splash downhill

Warbling mag pies in tree

Trilling,melodic trill

Whoosh passing breeze

Flags flutter the flap

Frog croaks,bird wristlets

Banking bubbles from tap