Do not disturb me
I can barely move
I do not wish to
Let me sit
Quiet and unhindered
As the pages softly turn
And the wind scatters apple petals
Across the garden
I am holding something
So small and secret
That I cannot see it
With waking eyes
The feeling
Perhaps
But I dare not say it aloud
Directly
I cannot name it
For to name is to give it power
Despair
Unthought
It sits deep inside
And defuses a taste
Or colour
To everything
So subtle it cannot be seen
Not even violent enough to be fear
Nor boisterous
But gentle
Like a weeping blackbird
Hidden in the bush
Grief takes over
Some days
Nwyfre 