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departing autumn
under the books
my lost muse

Swirls of golden smoke rose slowly from my blazing coffee ***. The dusty car at a distance slithered and crawled up the winding road. Sitting in the shack I watched the sand snaking its way up, keeping pace with the car and pelting it with sand particles as if it held a grudge against the driver. I had planned to go dune bashing but for the ominous tone of the desert.


The next day morning remnants of what the desert spat out, the sand particles consume me. I am cloaked with gloves of voluminous dust. I take another sip of coffee. The pungent aroma of the milieu and coffee leaves me breathless. The greens are choked and there is sand art on pavements outside.


I try to remove the sand on my hair as I wipe the aurulent sheen on the window pane.  A bunch of men wipes the dust from the tables and chairs in the opposite shack. An old dusty car crawls to a halt and parks, blaring the music of Led Zepplin.
neon lights;

our muffled

as it cuts through
the gaps

of the wooden

and snow washed
A passing moon and empty silhouette
keep me company this early morn walk,
their quiet company, a silent vignette.
A passing moon and empty silhouette
embrace longing of this hopeful gazette,
yet bid adieu to my faint solo talk.
A passing moon and empty silhouette
keep me company this early morn walk.
low tide

first breath of sunset

on the gull’s wings
Sitting on the bench
under this weeping willow,
I talk to you.
As I throw my voice across
the breeze catches my words,
and brings them back to me.

I make
watercolor images of you
on my paper.
Stroke after stroke,
using shades that I like
to fill the crevices and gaps within me.

Tonight I throw pebbles idly
into the stream.
As fishes gather around them
I talk about us to the moon.
blood moon
under the rowan tree
autumn berries
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