Knocking At Door

Grains of dust and frozen sands
Am I broken by the sweeping hand
Is there solace within this heart of mine
Where will I turn when the tears depart
Knocking at the door with this broken heart
Knocking at the door is anybody listening
I hear the echoes in the alley
As I sink into this feeling
I hear the creaking of the walls
And the footsteps on the ceiling
Speckled by the flight and the things I am feeling
Are the ghosts of long lost yesterdays
Listening in, hollowed by the winds
Do you hear the lonely whisperings
Gallant as I am, blistered by the wind
The bitter kiss of sweeping rain
That falls upon the dusty plain

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| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy