Well beneath my sarcasm
My hatred for the world

There is a different story waiting
Waiting to be told

For I am made of poetry
Of sunsets
And the moon

Of summer rain
And chocolate smell
And nights that end too soon

It's hidden well
It's out of sight
It's on you to find the key

For my fragile little world,
My dear,
Is not for everyone, you see?

Black Lilacs
blooming -

a blossoming
of grief -

dark fallen pollen
on the breeze -

I can see it falling
all around me -

there on the wall
for us to see -

April will be
the cruelest of them all.

Royal blue deepening
Velvet drift, sky robe
White moon gliding, glowing
Pinned tight, night's brooch
Trees black, still as cut-outs
Unreal sense
Of something's approach
All festooned in magic
And the brooch is smiling
Tempting the future
Rolling like a die and
Laughing at fate
Indoors has broken out in chaos
I just silently stand in the corner
And wait.