Poems

As the heedless wind swirled the withered leaves, And the heavens wept upon the grass, Nobody came to my funeral. Was it the sorrows I

I would tear it apart if it were paper, but what a pity—it is my heart. I would chop it into pieces and burn it

Solitude is a cherished gift until it turns into torment. Silence is a sanctuary until it suffocates the soul. Achievements are pride and glory until

As the noise of Manchester fades, I stand—still at war with time. Another year, another age, and I am determined to make it matter. For

The bewildered night settles into silence, where my thoughts wander— and drift toward you. You will see my worth. As I dream of seeing you,

As the naked tree of early spring,I remain—waiting to be wrapped in your leaves. Do you remember the careless treethat once cradled birds,their melodies composed