It was on the morn
A child was born
Coveted with love,
An angel came down
And took your hand
In a shape of a pure
white dove.

A violent rushing wind crept through my bedroom window,
bringing the Brooklyn air and the smell of fumes.

It's not a good combination at all.
When will I learn that the young Gen Z is more frustrated than us baby boomers?
When we are in bed, they are up all night.
When we are fully awake, they are about to lie down.
When we try to reach out to them,
They get annoyed easily.
Should we fold or unfold to the madness of this so-called new generation?
Fold to the madness of the new generation.

The fluctuating

flood-mark, a boundary of --


dry seaweed flowers.

Okay I can do this.
Okay I can make better peom then the last
When all I want to talk about
Is ….
Holding you or making memories between countries flask
As were drunk off seeing different cities and states
I would wake you up with pancakes from Albuquerque.
Somewhere in the sand of time where hidden trails would engulf us…
And sense I know you love the beach I would stay for a while in the water just to see your smile.
Okay I can do this
Okay I can make a better poem if you ever read this