Watching the motorway
from the cafe'.
resting my feet of clay.
Under a sky of clouds,
that some may say,
have silver linings.
But all I can see is the grey.

A shout to the sun,
thru' the misty dark.

Rain forest hustle in the gust of wind,
wrinkle scrapped leafs hissed like a snake on the ground.

She sang,
tunes of doves, lilies and sunflower.
Gracious like the wind.
Fairy-tale daydream.

She sank,
deep into the ocean.
As she drown in her mind,
like a stone in the sea.