Hot black tea you've great power to soothe me , making the day amusing
Nursing a cup with both hands , entertaining great plans
Closing the door on the disagreeable , making life quite simple* ...

We attempt rescue, unable to bear
the stardust-coated dragonfly
beat, beat, beating
frantic on the glass.

We entice him to perch
on our extended lifeline-broom
nurse him in a box, where he flutters
quivers, lies quietly blue.

My son cries bitterly
as we place a minute cross
upon the dragonfly grave
while intoning our final goodbyes:

We honor those who have fallen victim
to this fatal architectural trap, lured
by skylights of enticing white-light death
and the paned illusion of freedom.

In admiration of winged determination
and perseverance in the face of futility
we carefully tend the fragile, curved bodies
lay them here to rest under the mock orange.

years of gauze-weighted detritus
swept beneath these ponderous shrubs
a reminder - what seems like freedom
                                                         ­           often isn’t.

Insane and weird* -- some may think of me.
Shattered and useless -- others may think of me.
But I am what I am -- *different!

Don't worry, I'd never leave you, my abyss,
Whenever I'm sad, I'll stare into you,
And you'll whisper in my ear, quietly,
But it'll be enough for me to hear you
And know that I'm not alone...

There is a river that everyone wants to cross.
And everyone wants to be on the other side,
believing that it's there that everything lies.

And some wish to cross it, because
they are running towards something,
while others wish to cross it, because
they are running away from something.

But in the end, it is we who need to build
the bridge, and not wait for someone else
to do it for us.

Nights were long, days were dark
minutes seemed more like hours
yet in my dreams there was a place
with magic healing powers

The travel would not be easy
the mountains they'll be steep
I imagine there'll be a price to pay
which I know will not be cheap

But here I am, I've made the trek
it's time to pay the price
but now that I  know how much it costs
I will not make it twice

This place has brought me heartache
it's delivered so much grief
I wish I'd known when I first came
it was owned by the spirit thief

He was there to steal my happiness
I had soon become his toy
but like all new toys, he tired of me
and he robbed me of my joy

Now life plods on
who cares how I feel
those **** dreams of magic
they're never real

Weeping willows hide the child, that sees beyond this time. Veils and shadows taking shape, within the forefront of her mind.

Her hair is in disarray, she's just woke up from rest. Darkness all around her, heart beat quickens inside her chest.

She lifts her voice to the darkness, and sings to fill it with light. Bursting colors stream forth, pushing back the night.

Home she can't remember, it's begun to fade away. Like erupting colors, the sunrise brings each day.

Clutching her doll to her chest the trees soothe her with song. Wind blows through her hair, and passes hope along.

She is the child of morning, a sign for better days to come. Shining in her innocence, to beckon the rising sun.