The thoughts contained within the hollows of mind brush against my skull in a faint whisper,
just as the wrinkled autumn leaves that graze the bare branches.
But, in a fateful moment the wind takes her place in the negative space,
forming a storm from emptiness,
coughing up the worries were once locked away so tightly.

Softly i fell,
weak beneath the weight of the storm
My mind a dizzying hurricane of charcoal and mute gray,
but from my lips dripped not a word.
In a gust i grabbed hold of my pen,
to lift me outside of my mind,
and from it spewed the trickle of rain and the sigh of the wind as it gave up its fight
to make room for the color to melt from my mind to its pen.