In the depths of azure of my mystical dream
The warm summer winds that pull me downstream...
Crawling across the cement then
spindling from a web of...
Quite frankly, my dear
the air never really sat well...
October was;
the death of fireflies...
The day mourned as if every tree base
was a rueful cry that became softened...
Sunset at Ennerdale
Sky painted by the master seems to swallow...
I liked it better when
you didn't exist and I could...
This day, Winter sat upon the land,
Its bloodless knife sitting in its open hand...
Coming back down from the Boreal forest,
The little twittering song birds gather with zest...
Be it childish scribbling
Crafted, stylized or mere black ink...
The Falling Lady
- Of a constellation in the night sky...
With romance scripted
in emotive expressions...