Tonight I'm left dangling by a thread.
These past few weeks have taken its toll...
it comes like a dream;
if not immediately transcribed...
Walking through the
Forest quiet and alone...
Write me in color blue
as if you were drawing to me an ocean of words...
I
Here...
This Christmas time, when winter came around,
dear Michael saw some snow in P and Q...
To begin with I may seem shy
But don't be afraid to speak to me...
I find it unusual
to be reading recipe books...
I would sneak into your thoughts,
find out what has you busy...
My life is a mess of fear
I can laugh,smile, walk, talk...
Swirling down the drain,
those dreams go again...
I was a tree in a field
all brown roots and tended leaves...