Jun 2015
the dogwood trees
are blooming
their petals
tipped in the silver
of the morning
rain
i'm beginning to like
the quiet again
the shifting hands
of the clock
brushing hours
against my shoulder
are blooming
their petals
tipped in the silver
of the morning
rain
i'm beginning to like
the quiet again
the shifting hands
of the clock
brushing hours
against my shoulder
