today
three people
entered the room
one was asking
about the moon
why does it search
for the stars
run away
and never come back
the other one
was asking
about the sun
why does it follow
the moon
and light it's path
last one was
asking about you
why did you hide the stars?

Of poetry
and prose
his words
remind me
Every time
we talk
I bloom
like a rose

take me softly as you please
take me roughly as you need
take me break me but when you leave
leave a piece left for me

Spring
is in the air
wild flowers appearing
everywhere
Wood Sorrell
and violets
and wild garlic
which you can
chop up
and put into eggs

A rabbit leapt
across the road
and lots of lambs
are frolicking
in the fields
which are
unbelievably green
at the moment

What is buried so deep inside
A memory so entwined
many lines and differing angles
The same frame can be seen
Differently with different lenses
Different outcome for every scene
Can alter all the things
And I would not remain
as the person I am

There is life outside my window.
Fresh winds blow from the east,
Bringing with them crisp ocean air.
Creeks and rivers are washing,
Whisking away the last remnants of winter.
Through my window, I see the sun,
The sky so blue and a world anew.
In my room, through my window,
I observe, with experiences few.

Within my room, through my window,
You may see me, trapped,
As if bound by iron rings.
The trees are ready,
And I too, am
Ready to shake hands with spring.