Astronauts: float beyond my view.
Lovers: Say things that are not true.
But astronauts: they meant something to you.
So for me, they do too.

How lovely is the freckle upon the fire child,
How beautiful are these sun kisses.
What a summer that transpires under blue eyes,
What virtuous hands to clasp mine in camaraderie.
To all the sparks, the red heads, the gingers, the orange licks of heat:
Continue to burn, for it is amazing to see.

What a chill touch
Madame Morning has,
But what lovely chords struck by my muse: the robin, or, the effervescent chickadee!
And look, over by the birch tree,
A charcoal fox prances in dappled light,
While raven wing darts between a delicate line of sight.
What fervor portrayed in the trembling day!
What majesty!
How subtle is the music sung by broken silence,
How divine!
For within the beating chest of the Morn’ there lies a precious balance,
Between those that sleep, the precarious quiet, and-
The gentle sun, praising the awakened chickadee!
The brave amber breasted robin!
They sing for me amongst budding greens, and rest upon a window sill,
Reminding me once again:
Mine lady of the woods
has beauty wherever one may look!

When lonely, I wish for solitude
For I am alone most when with others.
The others with their wicked smiles and bloodied teeth-
The hidden malice underneath,
My friend has left for wild wolves
And I am the one to be culled.
Let me retreat to the outside,
Where silence pervades and my mind quiets.
Let me find solace in the wreckage of begotten riots
Riots against the carnivorous pack-
The midnight shadows residing in the back.
Leave me to be human in the dark
Leave me to hunt with you, though far apart.
Leave me to be alone
Let me dispel the lonely feast
Upon my tender demeanor, ever sweet
Consumed by the malicious extroverted beast.

Dropped an opportunity
It shattered against my concrete reality
It wasn’t my fault- it just slipped
The wind took it
God whispered a fire, and my hands were lit
Either way
I lost this
A fragment of my dreams
The golden prospect
The road to my future- cleaned, clear, and preened
Yet
Hope is glass
And to my dismay
It falls quite fast
it cracks
Before you can blink.