Dead Weight

They don't buzz in my ears anymore
they just whisper and giggle like children
among the stones and the leaves.

They're the remnants of a dream I never realised
who now withdraw at my every glance
and they veil themselves in the corners and between the walls.

And I can’t hold on to their atmospheres anymore
or the glittering romance of my liquid youth
down by the ramshackle fences or the racing streams.

They’re the keepers of innocence
who’ve secured those moments with stubborn hands
and in the memories and echoes between the trees.

Once, 'the fields flickered in such sunshiny silver'
when small hands sighed over the summer’s heat
remembered through the spit of a tiny handshake.

So they were heralds then, of shifting light and perspective
Those youthful spirits, who balanced the weight of my dreams
through unsung songs and the promise of an empty page.

***

But what use are dreams now,
as I walk this narrow path;
and already halfway home?