Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.
I go to freeze on dark tides
I wake before three.
for another’s riches
Waves, softly lapping
Dappled light wanders.
Across the lush, verdant grass
A tendril of smoke Rises from her cigarette As she sits alone
Autumn’s final leaf Lets go it’s hold on winter And portends the spring
Tall meadow grasses Tousled by a humble breeze Whisper in concert
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