I spoke to my father for the last time,
His voice has passed on but he beats...

Sobering words escape my pen
silence, a writers addiction...

Madness-
Children are singing...

I wrestled with darkness,
under a grieving moon...

I stood under a random tree
thirty minutes past...

I whispered a vow to the sky
of breezes sprinkled in Jasmine...

Death has become a design of informal thoughts
notions of peace are dressed within tainted tears...

Hypnotized by street lights, I breathe springtime
eyes fixed upon dirty streets, laced with fallen...

My eyes do not vision
madness and destruction...

A tiny little leprechaun
danced a bouncy jig...

Sweet flavors of nectar
dance upon my tongue...

Dear Hunny-
It's significant, sacred and sentimental...