That sight of the scars
Painting her young wrists
Shook me with with disbelief
Yet overtook me with jealousy

I'd never be able to express pain
Like she did in her poetry

The crispest of papers
The finest of inks would falter
In front of that beautiful, mangled mess
Her smudged, blood-tinged words would author

She sprung complete into being,
With all aspects of new flowers—
Short time became a ruthless scene,
And all the world a fleet of shower.

In the lowland fens at the worlds end,
Like the ferryman, a blue heron waits,
Eyes of dragon fly, hover, over still water,
His legs are the oars rowing to the dead.

Seeing you so persistently vying
For that one perfect selfie
While I ruined the picture everytime,
Conveniently, secretly enjoying
That feeling of your pudgy cheeks
Pressed into mine!

It's when you understand that-

                    Everyone has a battle to fight
                    Everyone has a demon to ****,
                    A regret they pray disappeared,
                    An unanswered "what if?..."
                    A larger than life aspiration
                    An urge for a simpler life
                    (both at the same time),
                    Everyone sees in themselves
                    A flaw they spend all their might to hide,
                    Everyone has an ache untreated,
                    Insecurities kept discreetly in a shell.
                    Everyone has a Story to tell-

Do you begin to realise that
Probably all of humanity
Is just the many versions of
One inifinitely re-written story.

I never
heard you
    *Sing

Stars in dust wasteland,
Seen once, every seven years,
Desert flowers bloom.

Otters slide down hill,
Gliding into snow melt creek,
Swimming in the sun.

Yellow apples fall—
Memories of spring blossom,
Gentle deer arrive.

Estuary birds  .  .  .
Fresh water beads on feather,
  .  .  .  Earth and sky in love.