Each time i allow
my mind to drift in
retrospect, regrets
gather like starlings
in the dusk sky.
Memories tainted rose
take their own shape
and imagination
runs amok leaving
wagging fingers
in its wake.

Something un-discernable
just beyond my mind’s eye

a feeling I can’t quite place

meanders, ethereal as
early morning mist
swirling through woods

delicate as ink on
ancient parchment
written with reed
by a chinese monk

beautiful in the way
only sadness
can be