At the close of winter days,
On which the sun has paid an unexpected call,
The orange red sunset painted on the aqua sky,
Is soon mixed into a muddy gray.
All appears suspended in motionless anticipation,
Waiting for day and night to decide whose turn it is to stay.
In those several seconds,
Just before night tucks in the day,
Beneath a polka-dotted blanket,
The child's mind is drawn to all the events just past.
Within this recollection then is made the silent wish,

Once a time and long ago
breathed a man who lived for show.

Cheap illusion pragmatic~
credo, maxim, catholic.

All he held as true was hid.

Self decepted invalid,
callous liar, thespian,
false his gaze, untrue mien~

truly though he fostered love.

Not due faith in stars above,
fearing flames unseen below.

Love unearned he did not sow
inexplicably was grant.

Seldom do the seeds we plant
generate such honest weal.

If our lies are what we feel,
sooth is best o’erlooked ‘twould seem~

another night when sleep
is devoured

out of darkness
to coolly caress my cheek
a gentle
spring’s breath flutters
laced with the taste of
bitter-sweet memories

a melancholic melody
a ballad that recalls past simple days
sends soft slow blues
wending to meet my soul
with reflections on what
now seem fiction stories

an alien mass sits
inside my chest
a surreal loss of control
sends pain
that rides burnt waters to my eyes

The dark room

The darkness closed about my form
In think, there were my fellow travellers
They closed the spaces between our ways
A common bond let feelings be born.

We tried to think something you all should know
All things became muddled as many wanted
Then peace took over, where pure thought could rule
Tell them, tell them, though it is not for us to be cruel