Feet walk slowly, through muddy grass
and Popsicle sticks...

As a young one
sparkly gems...

Clouds-
taller than these eyes can envision...

As far as I can see
the wilderness becomes...

Floating thoughts tangle
like webbed emotions...

Haven't written in a while-
I bend in corners...

I live in patterns of
misguided energy...

I hear broken syllables
mixed with chaotic traffic...

Hands feel like ice;
clasped together tightly...

There are times in a woman's life
when her lower lip crinkles...

And even if the ghosts don't sing
their hollow echos after 3 am...

During times of wintry blizzards
fallen pine cones follow snow boots...