Lost

a moss covered oak-
the sound of a woodpecker
hollow in the trees
–
echoes of prayer bells-
an ancient shrine
forgotten

the day’s writing gone-
a vast expanse of paper
waiting on the muse
–
pen to paper-
the clock again
rolls over

a flame extinguished-
I conjure up the darkness
to reclaim your soul
–
whisps of smoke-
a mirror
in the dark

lost in the mirror-
the only light comes from the
crack in my teacup
–
face splitting grins-
each gaping mouth
another door

stoic in the sun-
sand awaiting ruin from
the approaching tide
–
tenuous footprints-
a shimmering surf
over amber sands

fingers cracked with age
settle on the well worn keys
of her piano
–
milky eyes-
memories of youth
and music

covers pulled up high-
living in constant fear of
the click of the latch
–
black and blue sky-
waiting for the
impending storm

a dark bus depot-
waiting by the only light
for hope to arrive
–
dark wanderings-
only the moon
lights my path

bitter winter winds-
corruption festers and thrives
in the light of day
–
new moon-
awaiting the sun
to seek out shadows

curled up on cardboard-
nameless faceless commuters
pass without a glance
–
fingerless gloves-
dreaming of a home
not a doorway