Needles prick softly along my spine
just before Autumn, pine cones whisper...

She overseas her seedlings
gazing silently, as mothers do...

It's a mystery devoured In blue,
cotton ball delight, billowy pillow...

Twisted mortal of an ebony sky
deathly creatures transform...

A woman in love never thinks of death
for her soulmate will be hers, always and forever...

Pieces of me
fall to the floor...

She Is the wind of endless possibilities
a romantic sunset, where light kisses dark...

Deep in the heart
of my pollinated soul...

Listen to my voice dear man
through the pages and ink...

I graced piano keys at age seven,
faltering to insecurity...

If you dropped a teardrop
onto the floor, I'd preserve...

Melancholy sighs
drown within pools of ponder...