I write,
fill my days with verses...

twilight fades
into the cavernous wind-kissed sky...

The old house on the hill sits empty
its still structure a thousand tongues of silence...

The day morphs, takes its bow
twilight bleeds crimson...

No, I will not burn
this poem...

after I journey
life's melancholic ocean...

solitude, a magical realm
enveloped in tranquil hush...

I still see you
at the bend of yesterday...

autumn gust—
one by one...

your eyes
remind me of the ocean...

No more grey-edged yesterdays
brimming monotony...

words
loose-limbed...