"Actions planned are never completed"

was the constant whisper of the snow

the falling snow that reflects

the falling tears slipping away from my soul

the expected day was never presented

it provided yet another day of flowers without their colors

another moon to weep away its sorrows

another lover left to dream of her unrequited love

my hope scurries in fear under a rug of memories

the threatening waves repeat the beat of my flaming heart

the flaming heart that longed for the day

for the falling snow to wash away every memory

my heart was adventurous, but my mind was careful

and in the mirror, I was met by a reflection of my own perception

but with these new eyes, this reflection was a cowar'ds dicision 

and now, after my death,

I listen to the murmur of the falling leaves to my inexpensive heart