Snow Globe

A soft memory fades as every sparkle falls,
The memories giggle and play when I shake the well-moulded plastic surface.
I push away the broken branches of my memories,
Until I journey to golden memory,
A sculpture of grace, love,
But mostly peace.
A golden tinted droplet saps down from the countless twisted branches.

Its luminescent sweet leaves blow gently in the breeze,
Slowly I twist the leave’s stem.
I cradle it in my hand, gently.

The trees golden sap retreats into its ancient trunk,
Its leaves and branches turn a smoked ash colour.
Withered.
Twisted.
The small glob conceals me with darkness,
I drop the withered leaf,
It whistled when it dropped.
But when it dropped, I was drowned in silence…