Girl in the Purple Beret

Silence makes a home in the soul Expression is lost  No way to escape  Grasping in the dark  There’s no hand to take  Livelihood has left   Like a lover scorned  The hand you must grasp  Is that of your own.  

The void of the mind weighted with the most endless of tasks.  Remedied with bitter coffee, worn like a light roast mask.  Trembling anxiously with the earth as it quakes.  Buried in heaps of papers, meetings and ash.  A lightning bolt strikes as the storm begins to pass.  Off the clock with a wave of relief,  The woes of the day nothing more than an empty glass.