Why do I connect
with ruins of people lost...
You stand as Sentinels of gold
Garbed in sheaths of green...
Clouds are hanging low
grey pillows filled with water...
Life without drama even if stressful
where tension arises in the mundane...
The rapture
was on prowl...
Scattered patches of broken clouds direct sight to...
Chilly showers - chilly winds; rustling leaves...
Cricket to his mate,
“Silence, what a mouth you have...
You held each raindrop,
with its shy, flickering shine...
You are my isolation, desolation
Succour to my mind...
I wish
I could...
The sun beams pierced
Through the foliage...
A mighty tree how she stands so tall and proud
her limbs stretch out almost caressing the clouds...