My mind is littered with prayers written on
Creamed paper, bound with nimble, bronzed fingers.
The prayers are written to no one in particular.
One starts: You and I grew under the same angry sun.
We eventually learned all that could be done was to bathe in the harsh rays and kiss the fizzling pools of summer.
I watch birds escape sharp whips of winter
Finally understanding urgency by way of survival.
You're no exception.
As they scan the sky in the spotted sun
I wonder why you aren't amongst them, searching for the answers you asked me for.
Your mind is sheltered by thorns, is scarlet like the rose, yearning to know what lay hidden between the sheets of petals, blanketed by the whispers of searching crows.