As broken sounds upon the wind
It grabs your busy mind
It whispers faintly upon your ear
And skews your view of time

Not all who hear understand
Nor acknowledge it they will
But its ever present waiting still

For those who read its like a book
With words that draw you in
Fixating creativities thought
Woven by the writers ink and pen

Not all who watch will see
But in their mind it stays
Lost but there among forgotten ways

For me it is kept locked away
Imprisoned in my mind
I took the time to listen close
Sometimes hearing whispers from its ghost