I write
to deaden the traffic...
Tumbling wave swept notions crash through realism
to spill into humdrum normality...
your melodic words
circle my heart...
where is the need to rake the fire?
the flames never wither...
Within the colours and contours
that shape us, your words were like a cure...
I will no longer write aloud.
This will be my last suicide...
this poem is an outburst
of unfettered emotions...
Can one emerge so bold
from a fragile cocoon...
Powerful like every natural thing
you were reborn in the form...
This was the weekly
"we can have a cup of coffee...
Hope ripples
below the river banks...
How to unload weight
from a heavy heart...