I breeze through endless of the trees,
I lose my way in which I choose,
Broken souvenirs will appear,
Fears jam and stuck in first gear.

Hands buried last in quick sand,
eyes focus to ears whispering,
silver stars, captured in jars,
glittering like your stare, focusing.

There's a horizon I can't reach,
A cliff that hands can't withstand,
A hawk soars above my shore,
As I sink further to thoughts within.