Nippy mornings… pages, notes, dances of pen on paper, red, blue, a fever, a longing… branches outside… full dry foliage, …
Like the sun
she is to be loved from afar
as her colours burn
and rays spar.
And here we are… like lightning tousled clouds before a storm.
… Seven rains after…
While we thought of droplets, she meant storms.
Submit; allow her streams wash through,
In this continuum;
Within the night . . . The moon sends her breath lending beams true inadequate spectrum that doesn’t reach the …
In the ‘debts’ of my dresser lies someplace safe for your letters and in the shallows of my heart… soulful …