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.

Yellow is a
six-pence
gleaming.

Fine china
teacup

on broken
saucer.

Much love,
no regrets.

The leaves fall, rusted orange, upon the grass. My thoughts drift with the breeze as I fade into a daydream...

The Mississippi tunes play their blues, the mango *** tastes sweet, the rhythms enthuse, but eventually the apple must fall.

Yellow figures gather as the rains fall.  Single splashes become puddles.  A great Oak stands tall. Sandalwood incense burns. The old monk prays. Images come and go, flashes of the mind. A petite woman slices an apple, then points to a star.  Like the apple, her words are shared: "The truth of nature is everywhere"

Ethereal eyes, seeking wisdom. Robes covering a slight physique.  He makes his way across the room.  Slowly he sits, content within his fragile skin. A single bell rings - meditation begins.

When yellow marigolds
prosper.

A simple flower stands
alone.

Lulled by a sense of security I sit alone.  The dusty window obscures my view. 

Pictures hang within my mind.  Memories of faded days.  A peek into my rearview mirror.

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.

Raindrops splash
lightning strikes -
a giant oak appears.

Old words recycled, as time transforms, the leaves fall, a broken mirror, reflections of nature, my blue eyes review.  Foxgloves fail to fit.  Outside of time, rolling flower into loaves, a yellow glint, the mirrored tint her sunglasses hide, water is gulped, the pupils follow teachers, a *** of ink and chalk on a board, these days are longer than before.

Magazine Bulletin:
reclaiming space
within my mind.

Moving in circles,
a second hand

is ticking...

Time is on a mission

and the watch-strap
is slipping.

In her hand I ride the tracks. Time stamped with no use-by
date.  An bus ticket torn in two, it's impossible to forget you.

The empty coke bottle spins inside, the apple-pie's half eaten.

Your shoes all scuffed. Your hat still crushed. The wall from which you fell.  The orange peel hidden in your bag.

This picture frame is soon to be trashed.

Bottles explode, shards fly.  

Flames lick the walls, tears
fall.

Sweat pours in the dark of
night, still living with fear.

Taking it one-day at a time!

Hitting the bag hard.  Contracting the muscles. Pushing the limits.  Everyday is a workday in the gym. Boxing is a tough sport and injuries do happen, but the main draw is the test, and the endorphin high.

Outside the ring, time is more fluid.  The clock continues to tick but, for most people, the seconds don't count.

A knockout can arrive in the blink of an eye.  You think you know the ropes, the footwork, the patterns, and then wham!

Like a car-wreck.  One minute you're buzzing down the freeway, listening to tunes on the radio, and kaboom, what the hell???

Instant change, up becomes down, and for some it's down and out!

Twelve rounds, the bell sounds, points are tallied, did you make the grade, did you put in your best?

It's everyday life played out as spectacle. Twelve rounds in the squared circle and then your time has passed.

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.

Gemstones glitter in the barroom brawl, your chocolate-drop eyes entice.

As the emerald glass spins, as the madness of the hatter blooms, this moment captures hearts.

Youth returns. The day is young. The dance floor turns.  Jitters bug.

Glimmering alone... The moonlight offers a tinted gift for two.

Like a snail the journey is slow.
Two sticks maintain the balance.
Walking on water, floating clouds.

Leather brown, bomber down, hit the bottom, rise again.  The resounding sounds bounce around.  It helps to misunderstand the plan, so follow these directives if you can.

Green amygdala your orange eyes create suspense.

Hipster blue, the denim, black boots, and those paperback books.

He walks with attitude,
reads for romance.

Magnetic the charm bringing them in.  Stood in the centre as the hurricane spins.  Tethered to nothing, not even a creed.  A miracle in the making, an empty street, a canvas unpainted, a jewellery box recieved.

Something drew me to this leatherbound notebook, tattered and torn.  Inside the pages are filled with doodles and colorful phrases. Inspiration comes quick, I grab a pen and begin to underline.

The thread in the hand of a kind mother
Is the coat on the wanderer's back.
Before he left she stitched it close
In secret fear that he would be slow to return.
Who will say that the inch of grass in his heart
Is gratitude enough for all the sunshine of spring?

A clown's rebounding.  Traced on paper. Her life-line laughing.  Yellow stained tobacco teeth, white-washed into make-believe.  One colorful vision in a carnival scene.  Welcome in, and start to sing... this mirror respects your long-lost dream.

The warmth of the water, the foam, the bubbles, simple things comfort and calm the mind.

The view from the window, the autumn leaves, lost amongst trees, thoughts branching, deep breathing.

The old clock is ticking, hands working together, small moments savoured; this afternoon, washing dishes.

Twisted reality, my art in 3D.  Scratched my words into the sidewalk, painted my soul on a wall.  Conversed with canvas, I'm laced to the high-top.

Sat and watched as the trees swayed,
listened to hear what the leaves say.

As the coin falls
my wish remains.

Down with the lockdown.  Cross with a panoramic view.  All seeing, all knowing.  But what is there to know?  Now, and then, before and after - we remember them as they were...  history beguiles!

The seven of spades spins upon the table.  A whiskey glass awaits a drunken grip.  She fears the worst whilst he silently prays. Seven times the black and white dream had come.  The chair creaks as he shifts position.  

Magic coursed throughout his DNA; he believed with every ounce of his soul, but she was not so sure.

The seven of spades slowed its spin... his breath followed suit.

When the card stopped he felt the magic thrive. His prayer was a success and now they'd both survive.

This face obscured
green eyes hide

clouds shift, smoke
rises

underneath autumn
leaves

reading white lines
torn at the seams

Outside I notice
elderberry blue,
inside of a name.

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.

A lone motorcycle rusts.  Wild flowers grow.  The sun burns like Picasso's.  An eagle glides.  Blue is the sky. Yellow is the afterglow.

June flowers again as a caterpillar crawls upon the cards of condolence.  This transformation is a kickflip hidden within a butterfly wing.

Earth is gathered and offered again.  Grandfathers' home the empty shell.  His clutter decluttered, her signature removed.  

The final supper, a cell phone speaks in secret codes, bourbons are broken in two, with the jigsaw complete their sky is blue.

Glasses full of laughter, we drink them all.  A thousand dollars will secure the deal.  A headstone holds their story.  Together they are reunited.