This heart  is always open for business
Feel free to step inside
Round the clock, 24 hours
For whenever you have the time

There is always room for seconds
Even thirds if you so desire
The menu won't leave you guessing
Offering a variety of warming sides

Fill your plate up with the caring
Pouring onto it, a boat load of love
This heart encourages sharing
Of these delights there is never enough

You're more than welcome to bring your friends
There is always room for everyone
Friday nights it has karaoke
With plenty of song to sing along

Come inside for the daily specials
A little something to lighten the mood
If you don't have time to enjoy it here
Feel free to take this heart home with you

It rains.
A truffled scent
glitters
in dead leaves,
naked trees.
Transudation
into the depths
of the night.

walk me to the end of my dream
and to the start of my nightmare
lull me to sleep till the break of day
and rouse me into pained wakefulness
show me my sweet hopes in terrible flight
and detach yourself from the woes of my day
as love dissipates into a hallucination
and what was most unlikely takes shape
before my enraptured and unblinking eyes
I dare hope that it is all one huge concoction
but there's no tragedy in being wrong

This house
Over 100 years old

One and a half stories
On the corner it stands bold

The wind blows the trees
The whole place  creaks

People were born here
Others had died

With in the walls
No secrets to hide

How silly is the little flower
to think that it has such a large impact
on anyone's life.
It's as if it says
"I know I am just a flower
and it's well past the hour
but you picked me from the rest
so I must be the best.
So when I leave,
don't forget me please."

But it's just a little flower
that was chosen for no other reason
than to bring a little bit of happiness.
Yet the flower still speaks,
"I don't understand what you understand
but I know that I am not anything grand.
But it was me that you chose.
You watered me with the hose
and I have grown to be old
but now everything I feel is cold."

Poor little flower,
how long have you been here?
Shivering and shriviling.
But bless your soul you still speak.
"I know some time has passed
since I saw you last.
But I remember your sad smile
and how you had to sit down for awhile.
Your thin white hair has become flat
and I no longer see you sit where you sat."

That small, old flower,
drooped one last time.
With one last sigh
the flower picker spoke.
"I'm sorry little flower
it is well past my hour
and you're as thin as my hair
that has become so brittle without care.
But don't you worry
he is coming in a hurry
and I will not forget you
if you will forget-me-not, too."

The horses feed on bat-moon meadow
their stone age stable now cobwebbed
hooves long rested from run
gone dusty by the wheels of metal
yet they paleolithic horses
graze in night’s paraffin-lit glow
smelling of stable and the wild run
and in the stillness finding
their world crumbled.

so bare and weathered
with senses dead like leather
the depth has been measured
we're not here together

you were my only pleasure
life was as light as a feather
for worse or for better?
that pledge is dead forever