Scratches on paper, images form in black on white, the world created with words.

His scowl, her smile; scar tissue and lipstick.

Next to a crumbling wall upon the green grass they sit. Each holding a pen.  Taking turns, they write. Black on white, line after line.

The black rose and the butterfly.

Sleek lines curve around the mind, stimulating the imagination.  Here and now she faces me, but who is the mirror?

Tumeric stains on fingertips, reminders of the culinary fun.  A half empty glass of Bordeaux upon the monopoly board: oh yeah, another loss.

Ruby-red shoes seek a home. 
A silver spoon is bent in two.

Johnny Cash plays as the record spins.

Some you lose,
some you win!

Yellow blossom, snows fall.
Startled eyes, a rabbit runs.

A heat I could no longer tolerate.  I gulped from the bottle as sweat drenched my brow.  

The lines had been drawn.  Arbitary divisions separating positions.  Journeys were to be undertaken, 'long is the road' was the chant.

Tibetian prayer flags flapped in the winds. Abandoned newspapers whirled as if suspended on strings.

Wake up!

The bottle was empty.  Our time had arrived.  Hearts were beating.  This day was sublime.

Nineteen years of age... yes I remember.  

There was the heat of the jungle and the humidity, but the fear was stronger - each step took its toll.

Some days zipped past like bullets; others dragged like an injured buddy.

Twenty... I prayed to reach.

Rust tipped leaves suspended, the snowblind continues.
Footsteps mark a new path, deviation forges revelation.

Amongst the bamboo flutes a single melody draws me in.
Blues and greens merge, the kingfisher dives from view.

Sun bleaches the remains, fragments, pieces of yesterday.
Blood drips from the dagger's edge - this ritual of rebirth.

Tobacco-stained dreams remain. Tanned like leather, finger joints gnarled.  The sun glints through a crack in the door.  This is a sign of brighter times.  Turquoise blues holds the memory.  

Tainted by gunfire, the repetition of the rounds hitting the ground.  Tactile senses return, feeling the grip against the palm, fingers around the guard.  

Tension becomes the norm.  Tomorrow is hope, every evening brings the tears.  Trees sway as I walk, seeking serenity in the green leaves.