At night
when the lake
becomes a mirror,
I look over to witness
the reflection of the stars

**... Just so you can see me for one last time ...

Little red poppies,
all lined up by the wooden tracks

Little red poppies,
all stirred up by the passing Soviet train

Little red poppies,
all picked up by the children who carelessly played

Mmmmmm...
At dusk when the
moonflowers show their
faces to the silver stars.

Mmmmmm...
At dawn when the
monflowers hide their
faces from the golden sun.

Mmmmmm...
You will find me
under the shadow of the willows,
dreaming of him as he recites
verses of poetry to me.

Mmmmmm....

The sun set beautiful
Red and orange
Mixed across the sky

Keith Wilson April 2017

I saw the world through
eyes of glass.
Ghost, tall and thin.
What I can't see, please tell me.
- Little petals, white and rosy.
Flying in your garden
You really can't see the beauty
in everything,
I don't even think you can see me.
... But Cherry Blossom
on a moonlit night

I'll give you my pen
if you draw the parallels
here between our lives.

Little nightingale,
wings of white and gold.
Little nightingale,
singing gay and bold.
Fly away, far from your iron cage.
Fly away, up in the North sky.
One day you will come back,
singing your last requiem to me,
For I shall be there to hear no more.
   You are very brave,
   and you are very free,
So do not fall into sorrow,
do not fall into eternal repose.
But until then...
  - Sing, oh sing,
My sweetest nightingale
high above my broken baroque grave