As my roses are in bloom the cedar box is
locked away with safely kept dreams.
  The Light hits the window's pane
shattering forever into pieces illuminated
thoughts;  my trembling fingers touching the
floor's veins -- long sturdy planks braver
than my bones, my spine and all pain.
  Did you know that when the proud Moon
rises from the descending heights of waning
daylight my roses are still within their
magnificent bloom?
  And my hands are without purchase for
South spins and north is beyond my reach.
  But my roses are in bloom and my dreams
safely kept.

:: 10-15-2018 ::