The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
The night air’s cold hand
reaches down and pulls my breath
in shards from my chest.
Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
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
In a copse of trees Entwined in vines, a slowly Rusting tricycle
A desert reborn As rain coalesces and Falls to the parched earth
Sunset on the dunes Sibilant whispers whirl from The wind in the reeds
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