If I were to feverishly bite my lip
in sequence of each syllable you...

Twisted markings etch the bindings
of a leather notebook, laced in red...

Rainbows whisper grace
As your sweet presence shines bright...

Lost and alone
upon a twig...

I leave him often
abandoning a smile...

Floral aromas ignite
Sharing one moons fantasy...

A Rustic old windmill
stood firmly planted...

Galloping horses
went to ride...

Unwanted visions collect thoughts -
I file them away...

Crying buds
whisper to a mum...

I stop and listen often,
to crinkling leaves of grace...

Franny, the old dog
perches herself to the tree...