When the writing feels stiff and stifled,
Uninviting where once delightful,
Where do you hang a pen?
From end to end I’ve searched my soul,
I’ve looked within, I’ve paid the toll,
I’ve strolled deep down that memory lane,
But writing now just feels too plain.
So I ask you now my dear old friend,
My dried up, withered, wilting pen,
Where do I hang you in the end?
With words all gone and want well spent,
What show you now in your defense,
But passion’s long and growing blaze,
Died to embers in it’s place?
Have you nothing left to say,
With such old and fading grace?
Where do I hang you in dismay?
To say goodbye and walk away.

The first time that I fell in love
The sky was crisp and blue.
Such a cloudless day it was
When I first got to know you.

I fell in love further when
The moon lit up the skies.
I knew you were the one for me
When I looked into your eyes.

And when I fell in love for sure
The sky - to me -
Was you
You were the endless blue of sky,
Of sea, and of earth too.

Then when you went away you took
My sun, my stars, my guiding light;
You left me in the dark, alone:
In the eternal night.

colorful paint
on a blue canvas
runs down in strings

crossing borders & languages
flowing into hearts and minds
slowly
at ease

the bottom end
of the canvas
is not the end
of the message