i.

in the wild, drumming rain
blossoms sink, confetti pinks,
riotous whites, collapse
in spring’s paper mache pools.

ii.

on a hot tin roof
the rain plays her wind
guitars and percussion
while the sea recharges
her engines with the
thunder of the waves.

iii.

the sound of the rain, chiming,
a crazy singer on the forlorn
lawn, stretching like an
accordion, wild in her
wilderness,  crashing
like the waves
drawing me closer to you.

iv.


you kiss me and
my heart skips a beat,
flutters with excitement.

i long for summer with her
gold sun, warm, rushing
streams and bottle-blue sea...

In my dreams I see millions of fireflies flying in the dark and illuminating the night with their heavenly light.
As I am watching this scene unfold I see hundreds of frogs on the horizon as they march slowly towards the fireflies I witness a grisly scene. I start to see right before my eyes that the fireflies are being eaten by the frogs. At first one by one but soon hundreds of fireflies have fallen to the skillful tongues of frogs until only a handful of fireflies remain and then there is only one firefly left. Even as the frogs are trying to get that one last firefly it is brighter and lighter than the rest and it is able to easily avoid the tongues of the frogs until it begins to rise above the frogs and into the sky free from the frogs at last. I feel like sometimes we can be like fireflies sharing our light but when troubles come we can easily be swallowed by the frogs of life that try to bring us down but as long as we keep our inner light strong in ourselves we can be like the last firefly left easily avoiding the frogs of life that try to bog and you will rise any trials that life has to offer.

me is you
you are me
for a while it felt  to be

bliss and shine
we were fine
sailing on life‘s endless sea

came some storms
ship got worms
wrecked on islands we can‘t see

you are you
I am me
lonely lovers they shall be

In your prime
The world is at your feet
On the downfall
It's you on your feet
Or none at all

So , be there for yourself
Be it prime or downfall

My clock never told the time
and looked silently glum

lost its ticking rhyme
with the pendulum
uprooted to be muted
hands dismantled
so you can guess
it made no progress
sitting pretty still
as I went about on my will
set my own pace
not bothering about the dial's arc
but scheduled my work
according to my when
till declared insane
and sent to asylum.

Since I've been sitting pretty glum
like the dead pendulum.