Day Break

All the things I want to say
play musical chairs
in my frontal lobe.
Questions older than dirt
 swirl as though
 typhoon swept,
 landing here, there,
 places hard to reach,
 yet always easy
 to hear
 in the dying wind.
Is it, did we,
 when, if,
 maybe?
 Surely time will tell
 when light returns
 and day breaks.

  ©Peggy Eldridge-Love 2013