A broken hinge rests alone as freedom ripples in the wind. She stands tall beside the red tricycle, fenced in white and rusted green.  

Snapshots fire sepia-toned memories.  Farther down the road, where the crossroads hit the stop sign...  phones lines cross the skies.

Broken winged
those blue eyes
diving down.

The wild dreams return.  Another moment swirls.  The leaves of the oak capture me.  A blackbird swoops.  The rain falls, puddles form.  Again the butterfly ***** her wings.  The nature of music sings.

The page is yellowed
and torn.

Tomorrow we'll dream
like ripples on a pond.

Watching the butterfly
as she beats her wings.

When the curtains are
closed,

your shadow becomes
the setting sun.

Across the ocean with invisible lines.  Tracking yesterday's dreams.  Upon her waves I float.  My eyes meet the clouds.  Calling out for land.  Sunshine, sand, and pebbles.  Another person to caress.  Drifting through lonely days.  These lines entangle me.

Wild as she wandered.  Lost in the lights.  Seeking solitude. Her art expressive, her painted skin.  Ink stains on the pathways.  She's sentenced to blend.  A torn reciept, the crumpled playing card, a seven again.  

Weeks passed in years, moments in days.  Tomorrow is a broken rainbow.  Lost in thought, the breeze remains.

Dust swirls on the old road. A white cross stands alone. Further ahead a preacher kneels.  Prayers are shared, and thoughts exchanged.  His black robe ripples in the breeze.  Bent twigs for fingers, deep-set eyes like beads.  Sacred like a scarecrow, yet inside he flows.

The blue jay flies,
a wild flower grows.