No wintering.
I have come to stay...
You decide first-whom
to blame? As if I am...
You nurse the tender pains
to feed your soul. In sunshine...
The divination.
A broom...
Moon, eye of
night, will watch...
Backlash of scars
becomes glamorous...
I will write a very
soft poem for you today...
Very scary, I admit?
your vintage...
Living a death daily,
becomes a normal chore. It was an intense...
Like Sequoia,
you wanted to grow tall...
When white mushrooms
come in procession...
Tonight moon was
gliding like a swan...