I keep holding onto your daisies,
even though I should have planted...

I am removed from your companionship,
the undeniable flow of my sonnets...

He beguiled my senses and I faltered,
in that glorious betrayal the vital memories...

Father built a wooden stable
under our frozen pine trees...

Buckets of cold doubt
dampen my pushing sunshine...

My mouth hovers over this keyboard,
dissecting a hidden keynote...

I'm not much of a playmate
when my hands are sticky...

If I was cemented on that one-way highway
words could not be said loud and fast enough...

Stunning, I have become entranced
by a mediocre jar satisfied...

Why can't family just behave,
do the men always have to...

I am often whiny,
a bit of a pull...

4:13
and I count down...