Greenery transforms into nightingales
during a midnight symphony...
The freak accident
of a paranormal mystic, begins...
Roses bearing thorns
alluring despite the risks...
Had I but a brush to paint all the world
capture each moment and every twist...
The coal and blackened hands.
Zero was the cardinal sin...
The air is unsullied with city pollution. A rough...
Like a butterfly...
Plurality of the sin
slids across the sludge...
In my garden
The soil is rich...
Midnight visitor
rests upon a willow tree...
Night.
A scantily clad sky...
After most of the day, away in my drudge
I fair my way home to spend it alone...
Up on a mountain
Reaching for the sky...