An old book of mine,
A flower I cannot name
So faded you might think
It was painted, not placed.
Category: Poem
The evening light
What’s the word?
The sky’s like spilt blood of cherries
Crows cut the image, then a third.
It’s absurd to color clouds with berries.
Azure tinted clouds never vary,
Make the world seem cheery.
Scarlet- that’s the word.
Lunch by the sea
Fills
Then empties-
A seaside cafe
A walk
A winter night,
In her eyes starlight
Thousands of years old.
Chilly morning
Cold sunrise;
on the widow plane
I write a wish.
Wind down
In the thunderclap
she hears her name.
Last one in,
the moth enters
before the door closes.
Silence unlike the charity dinner
there- selfies first.
Deciding where to land
her brown curls,
flow down.
She combs her hair,
the length of a girls dream.
Time dissolves
Too rare are my visits here
Where the city’s still
And every surge and pulse
of cloud and air you hear.
Feel free in your impulse
Where only birds trill.
Change
The sunset seduces
Every step, takes me closer
While the horizon flies.
Screen light
The hum of my laptop
Other worlds flicker to life.
On rainy days
your loneliness
stays inside.
Mountain escape
Up in the mountain
Eternity waits,
Freedom from this life.
