I left England back in the old age,
belonging to the same iris's, soul...
'Neath the glitter and glamour of autumn's mystic...
stood a crowd of crooners, eyeing the majestic...
Imprisoned, in a Praxinoscope film.
You're every season, every shadow...
Beautiful
eyes in misty clouds...
Outside my window
a red scarf and bowler hat...
When?
A question posed that I can not answer, but I can...
Why do I write?
A question often asked...
I got a voucher for this year
but I am not sure if I can buy...
Let us be strangers tonight;
two hungry pigeons gathering...
So much is placed
in the written word...
The stillness of his calming
waterfall eyes, dew dropped...
I once heard that Tokyo, at night, is like a lost...
There are no businessmen to see, to act unbroken...