He sat awake listening to the distant chimes in a forlorn wind,
a cacophony of scattered tones grating on his raw nerves
as the muted sunrise curved in the early morning mist.
The grayness served to mirror a tattered heart;
his vast emotions had skirted the edge of rationale.
Failing to scale the treacherous precipice of love,
there was no one else to blame.
He had drawn the short straw.
© Copyright – Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013
Written for The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #93