Forgotten like a broken teacup,

London bridge on a windy day.

Heartfelt are the rains that fall.

Green fatigue smothers the mind as purple smoke drifts in the breeze.  The earth comforts with shimmering grass, but these illusions never last.

Time begins its chaotic spin.  Voices call out.  Many languages and dialects I hear.  

A dragonfly hovers, my eyes become hers.

The green fatigue fades, the smoke fragments, the voices so far below.  Slowly we rise, leaving everything behind.

Freedom on a wingtip,
together we fly.

Her name
upon the
window.

Painted in
purple to
say,

Like your
favorite
flower,

I am here
for you
today.

Sidewinder Steve lowered his shoulder.  You're a lucky girl, we've scored a direct hit.  Hummingbird flew directly into view as he imagined her perfectly still.

The old winds resonate, clouds come and go, their nature thrives, their story survives.

Honor the sword,
one cut separates
all.

The wind chill is
frozen blue like
paint.

Red is the blood
pulsing as I wait.

Fine china
teacup

on broken
saucer.

Much love,
no regrets.

Struck a match.  Watched it burn. The scratch of sulphur intrigued my ears.  The burst of flame dazzled my eyes.

Struck a match.  Once again I watched.  The perfect strike?

Exhausted all the flames.  Searched for more.  My young eyes inspired.

To the woods. A new matchbox.  Pyramids of sticks. Struck a match. Watched it burn.

Still inspired by the fire.