We dance with the rhythm
Of leaves and grass
Wind in the trees
And lakes of grass.
...
I am the
Half-way point
Between yes and no
Your green light
...
We wear black to remember
A day we rather forget;
We lost one of our own
The unsuspecting target.
...
Who is this that
Holds the pen, giving shape
To words, and color to sound?
I have seen him before,
...
I
He sits upon his thrown
Free of metaphor and myth
...
Now i'm afraid my dear
The end of the party is near
And It is time for the guests
To depart to with the rest
...
No one in the world
Be quite like you
With honeysuckle eyes
...
Some will tell you
That love is blind,
It is a shame so many
Would be so kind.
...
Clouds of apprehension and
oppression blot out the sun.
The world is made a colder place
by her absence as scattered beams
...
The pen diverts my pain,
Softening it like meadows
Bringing seven ounces of sunlight
To the consuming darkness.
...