The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
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
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.
Mute, straining to hear your voice outstretched across our chasm of silence.
Driving, lost in thought. Brought back to earth by the smell of freshly cut grass.
How thankful am I? Still to have the chance to say That I love you Mom.
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