You're like a beautiful poem, my dear
it's plain to see
it's plain to see
I'm now caught within your verse, I fear
I'm lost at sea
I can't be free

You've trapped me in your sonnet
each syllable draws me deep
like a lilting lullaby
that carries me to sleep

You've written this beautiful world, my dear
I've fallen in
I've let you win
but the story was never about me, I fear

I'm reading the lines meant for him

Whispers in the breeze
gentle rustling of the trees
soothing rain now falls.

...

Accumulated
old letters upon my desk
some are bittersweet.

-M.H.-

when you feel as
useless
as a white crayon

all you have
to do
is to find
that someone

who prefers
black paper

Echoes of yesteryear’s
Blissful laughter
Fade away
As new profound
Sorrow blooms.
Disoriented in the murkiness
Of a wistful haze
Writhing in unending
Spasmodic aches

A new day is born
The mid-morning
Deceptive sunshine
Briefly kisses my skin
The sweet taste
Of what it means
To be human

The paralyzing
Feeling of unraveling
As the May icy winds whistle
Through the eucalyptus trees
Forbodes of calamity.