Poetry Blog by Jill Ashforth (not listening)

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Norwegian Wood

I walk amongst the trees but who is there to hear?

I whisper and let my voice rustle the leaves until their tremors cease.

Hoarse and weary, not heard, not seen, I wonder if I have ever been. 

A Norwegian hillside, a Norwegian wood, I sing your song.

Hear me.

There is much talking but who is there ever to hear?

In life, I roar silently as people pass, unseeing.

Soundless, I mo...

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Norwegiannot listeningsilencetreeswood

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