Crimson clouds hang low.
The day’s embers glow softly,
burning down to dusk.
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
I go to freeze on dark tides
I wake before three.
for another’s riches
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.
Waves, softly lapping
Dappled light wanders.
Across the lush, verdant grass
When did my daughter Get old enough to leave me At the carnival?
His smile hangs askew, while unseen tribulations rent rifts in his soul.
On the horizon, the evening sun stretches low beckoning the night.
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