I have come to a fork in the road
each path is a mystery
on the right is a green woodland
a reminder of my childhood home
...
if silence could speak
then you would know
a mute and clumsy pause
...
night creeps through the trees
like an army stalking darkness
creatures of daylight vanish
...
Who was it that passed me on the street today?
I was preoccupied and did not notice.
They were a blur and a shadow disappearing.
I turned but could not recognize a familiar walk.
...
I stand here in the moonlight
and it is well past midnight
no one around and not a sound
to share this mystic sight
...
Having chosen a plebeian life,
I missed the muttering alleyways.
I heard it all from insane poets
tucked away in the cannibal asylum,
...
the images have never died
I live within a daydream still
I have resisted all advice
...
the last magnolia blossom waits to drop
it is a relic of the spring
but it is unaware
it cannot feel its petals gently fall
...
as love may come and go like spring
like luck or fortune's furtive grace
so every heart must guard itself
and thus reserve a secret place
...
she hides in shadows of midnight
and often steps into my dreams
she is always there
she has so many names
...