WHISPERS

Burdening jubilees
drenching
my parched and dark soul.
A whispering lament
makes me feel
ever more old.
I am the sonnet
undressed,
naked eulogies
within
as a chorus of discontent.
One rainbow
searches the spirit’s catecombs
till I know
where pixies play
and the edifices
of want
have no cloud
to rain
with dreams fulfilled.