Deep is the color of ice
As it builds and grows
The warm red of the days gone by
Grey, hardening the color of steel
White where the time has lingered
Shutting out
All that we feel
Yellow as the sun shone upon it
Feelings strong and so real
It jags to the left
Then sharp to the right
Not able to decide
Which way to grow
Freezing harder in the night
As darkness hides the warmth from its face
It grows
Harder
And colder
In this love lost place

A tender finger strokes down an aged cheek, as loving eyes stare deep into familiar pools. The mind sees far behind them into dark brown wells. No words are needed; they have never been needed. Tears slowly blurring the windows through which life gazes; knowing; always having known; somewhere inside…
                                         .... If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.

Green, red, red and green
Bangle, jiggle, twinkle and sheen
Rush and tumble, hurry and pay
Have they are all forgotten
What the point is this day?

Rushing past the man on the street
He who is huddled with nothing to eat
Sitting so quiet, tryin’ to keep warm
As he tucks in his legs away from the swarm

Blue day, Black day, black and blue
Green paper flying, silver coins too
White snow flying resistance of few
A man disappeared under the snow as it flew

Green, red, red and green
Bangle, jiggle, twinkle and sheen
Rush and tumble, hurry and pay
Have they are all forgotten
What the point is this day?

Presents and wrapping, bangles and bows
Shiver and shaking, shoes with no toes

Each laugh filled the air and landed onto the canvas; sighing with a pause, the colors smoothed into pools of feelings and ran together with the tears.

The world disappeared around her as she cried tears of color, dripping from her brush, lost in the music and the sententious of deep purple.

Different languages, different voices
They choose the letters with different choices
Some large, some small, some short some tall
Written on books,  signs or the wall
Drawn with ink, drawn with lead
From hands alive, and those who are dead
They turn and curve,  jut jagged or straight
They sooth your soul or wake you at night
By themselves they don’t live
By themselves they don’t care
Locked inside of each stroke
A threat?... or a prayer?
A bit of your soul
On the paper you’ve penned
Will they calm or incite
Or maybe  ……  just end?

You opened your arms and looked at me
Faster than a stone I sank
All the walls tumbled and I closed my eyes
Faster than a stone I sank
Your lips on mine and I craved more
Faster than a stone I sank
You walked away without a word
And faster than a stone I sank