apples lost
to early rot
first blush of red
on mottled skin
a sallow death
sure as sin

crow of night
crowns the branch
boldly pecks
a hole so wide
plucks the worm
from inside

i.

light in lazy pools
patches of shadow
like closing doors.

ii.

i float
like a ghost
open the sky
like a love letter.

iii.

a bird hovers,
shudders to
a sky that
unwraps its
dreams like
inky pools.

iv.

greyer than ghosts
that kiss for my
lips,
that trembling
of my heart
just for you.

A young man
with a fake
long white beard
sitting to the side
giving directions
that make sense
in theory.

It's hard to admit it
But I'm afraid we must
The sweetest dreams
Can turn to dust

However wonderful the song may be
We need to hear the melody
Whatever beauty a painting brings
If left unseen, it's just a thing

Because it seems to me that a dream
Should hold a hope of reality
Otherwise it's not a dream
It's just a game, you see

                                       By Phil Roberts