Pastiche

Is that laughter on the wind?
Are there small, hard eyes behind
that smile? And it soon grows cold.
Am I lonely? Am I old?
A car snarls, a pigeon preens,
all of my life`s shifting scenes
merge like shadows on a screen.

I know each face in each rain
drop which traces your new name,
then trickles and dies softly.
The room watches constantly.
I know that stare; Night unfolds
into morning. Am I old?
Am I lonely?
Will the new day console me?

Morning rain nuzzles windows,
softly washes street shadows
into the past.The day is
mist shrouded, full of whispers.
And I, alone and grown old
have watched as you crawled.

And I have wished you broken.
now I hear words, unspoken,
but cold, bare and pitiless
they return to bear witness
to my insecurities,
regrets, infidelities.
All of whom I used to be
is undone.I dread to see
the new morning`s plots and schemes.
All of my life`s shifting scenes
lie in pieces:Silence screams.
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