less the words you mused

beyond my road i can hear the stream

in ice water licks the shadow of its still self and moves on

upon its eddies i lay a leaf

greyed and dried

not to be restored by this phantom touch of dew

i dream it a paper filled with words you will never know

not for the lack of soul within the words no, not that it is discretion that moves me so

to wash to clean away to be all that i am

less the words you mused.