The sun cannot be seen
the clouds are dry and the moon.
Trees are hardly barren,
and on them; flowers bloom.
Pink and red petals
fade out to the brightest white
i sit and watch as the sky fades
and the wind cools it’s blight.
Window open,
i smell the freshest breeze
my heart beats with the earth
and my mind is carried with the leaves.
roses spring, with thorns a’sharp
i hope one day, I will be plucked
like a child picks flowers from the yard.