My pen is dripping
from my heart and soul,
hoping to grow
a bit more beautiful
each day.

Serene words
are like good seeds
planted in the mind.
Watered by the smile
that will bloom for miles.

I hear first snow falling,
                Fat white whispers
Geese flying in hurried vees
The high warm drafts of August
        long gone;

Alone here in my van Winkle doze
        I pull my quilt in close
It's faded cloth dimly sweet
                And you cross my mind --
Our huddled adventures that
Cold year when the world
        was you and I
When a thousand sparkling zeroes
        lit our path.
We were legendary --

April's city of hope, its emerald
        promises, so far away;
I shall doze in the poppies meantime
And cherish the winter moon's
                longing to hold me tight --

Sitting in an abyss of my own creation,
as the wax of my last candle drips burning down my hand,
and I wonder:
what would I see if I blew it out?