Nurtured and grown, from a maternal earth
An English rose had sprung, in full array...

I really could not
think of anything to think...

War!
War...

The planets and stars
along with the sun and moon...

The smell of milk which spills from troubled hands
brings floods of tears to eyes that shouldn’t...

Life has ups and downs
just like a roller coaster...

A delicate touch
fingertips turn green to gold...

Lying on my bed of dread
alone...

The sound of church bells
cheered from the belfry...

To all invitees and any other party entries
your cranky, calamities of collaborations...

Through my window,
I watch leaves cascading...

A winter queen now owns the stage
the lock and chain, falls from her cage...