This Silence…

Free Verse

A.H. Mehr
Write Under the Moon
2 min readJun 21, 2024


An image of a beautiful white rose with a dark background.
Photo by Liam Nguyen on Unsplash

Expansive paths of my inherent
goodness drift down to dreams: Ofttimes.
Here, posterity is not yet evident.
The past lingers some more.
The present, is, me having drifted.

I observe, in this path,
dreams do not hurry through.
I too, take my time to make them
my home until they last.

When they end and I revive,
embittered remnants of yesterday
weigh me down,
though I enjoy a cool breeze
seeping through the windows.
It had rained.
Damp freshness.
Splashes refusing to dry.
I taste the unruffled ambience.

I senselessly ponder if I could have
conveyed some compassion to someone
who’s been hurting me, immensely.

Their hatred is a camouflage —
in splotches of yellow,
then a concealing green,
not visible to others,
but I can feel it — the vibes.



A.H. Mehr
Write Under the Moon

Graphophile - In a small way, but loving this aesthete's journey.