For i see a tree behind a house made of clouds a slow whisper entrapped beneath the soil that never moves an inch a state of wellness only getting harrowed we live like a static voice losing the soft cotton-like warmth each day where the bells pause to chime. We come across rooms full of… Continue reading Imaginations

Memories are just memories

For memories does not spark my romance with life Nor do they slip through the curtains of moisture. All these years, even when I was a teenager, I watered the dying roses and Orchids Flushing a spew of lightning and rock salt People became a mystery to me, leaving me stained Behind the sturdy brown… Continue reading Memories are just memories