Misty morning of time gone by,
sun bespeckled summer days full
to the brim with quiet love.

Loose collections of a rainwater collage,
woven blankets draped over
a sad man with a pen.

All I am is held within the small things,
all I love and breath
mere moments.

Old songs sung by the wind,
a whisper and a longing
please let me make something
beautiful for you.