My view
Earthy tones...

The intercom blared "Ladies and gentlemen...
only those passengers seated in rows 15 - 30 are...

Be it childish scribbling
Crafted, stylized or mere black ink...

Tongues of fire lick
air in a dimly lit room...

Closing my eye's, I see her
A tranquil vision...

A closed door will only ever reflect
Forlorn light shining upon peeling paint...

It was a scruffy day
The sun full of blisters...

Winifred Montague
what a delicious darling she is...

Outside my kitchen window
lies a patch of dirt...

My heart, not merely a tempestuous thing
Nor inarticulate of rhythm...

Hovering featherless over Blandswood
Pere Punga...

The earth bellows in pain
Boulders, dust, rock, billowing upwards...