Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

i fall in a way
day to day
to the words
i fail to say

you are silent
but my dear
in heart, the words you say
i can vividly hear

Anger scorches like sun inside me.
Every attempt of peace,
Is met with war drums and battle cries.
I dry up all the good emotions from my closest companions.
Burn them till there body resembles a drought affected flower.
My tears then fall like the rain , saying its to late to resolve the 3rd degree, fatal burns.
Although they watch on in indescribable pain ,
for  they see the forsaken flood ahead.
My clouds have covered them with guilt.
Which should be mine and only mine!

A  group  of  maples
stand  proudly  in  the  village.

A  vivid  deep  scarlet  in  color
truly  magnificent  trees.

Very  pleasing  to  the  eye.
You  have  to  catch  the  moment  though
Sadly  the  beauty  soon  fades.

As  seen  in  October.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2016.