She was placed in an environment
where lost angels have gathered...

I can't always write about you
but here lately your eyes dance...

A Woman's face withers
upon a morning sun...

I label my tears
by the number...

These eyes have witnessed
balmy breezes, whispering...

My mind is controlled by
societies whispers - I hear...

Summer fails me often
as pastels blend with...

Upon the edge-wood
I ride against thunder...

Her words become shortened
as each day is knitted into the final...

Discolored figurines
line up, one by one...

Losing the ability to reach out to the sun
my grip upon the night has taken it's toll...

Collaboration written by Maple Tree and Robyn...
Special Note: PnQ site permission to post...