Here and there

Yanked from the clothes line

The sound a sheet

Becoming thunder.


Lost at last

In old grown forests

And the sound of streams.



Like bare branches in the wind.

What a lovely morning it’ll be

With the sun shining.

What an evening to dread,

While we’re graduating,

Far from and free of


Waiting so long


Look back while the morning comes,

Find your face on the mirrors edge,

Ride the moonlight rays,

It rains while you hide in shade.



What’s that, that stays the same?

What’s in playing with your crown?

I’m staring through glass,

So wear the grey before you fade away.