Now swings the jacaranda
with the joy that had ceased to glow:
from the depth of dark blue times
comes violet sweet-singing like old;
the tree never will forget
even in its brightening dreams
the ash-smoke story of how
it once lost all of its leaves:
each a tear: for fond memory,
goodbyes stolen by suffering's thief,
autumn giving no notice
of winter dressed only in grief;
standing lonely in the night
as winds whistle your sad tune
looking up to not believe
while in your spirit's June:
stars are silent explosions
at peace with the still moon;
you are not the moon or sun,
the stars are what's left of you.

I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms.
I’m fascinated by spring, jacaranda petals and the countless anthologies that Mother Nature continues to write.
Without a sound, the city’s jacaranda petals fall effortlessly onto the ground.
As they fall, I begin to realise that we are all living in a world where the minutes are working overtime.
I’m reminded of the days when you and I devoted our time to the art of rhyme.
I no longer know where you are in the city but I hope you’re doing just fine.
I’m not where I want to be at this current moment but please give me time.
It’s within our simplicity where I discovered how beautifully complex we are.
Our circles might be smaller but our hearts are much bigger now.
The circumference might have drastically changed but the love hasn’t.  
It’s no mystery why my aura will always long for the company of yours.
Even though I’ve got two left feet, I still want to slow dance to the rhythm of spring’s heartbeat.
In the capital city, October skies glow with a shade of purple.
Went from breaking up, breaking through to breaking new ground.
So even though I’m hurting now I know I’ll eventually be safe and sound when summer comes around.
These pages do not have enough space to describe how phenomenal we are.
It has been a while since we’ve seen each other so where are you now?
I value all you taught me about life and the importance of true friendship.
The circumference might have changed but the love between us hasn’t.

I’m from the city where jacaranda trees light up the streets with their purple blooms.
I’m reminded of the days when you and I devoted our time to the art of rhyme.
I no longer know where you are in the city but I hope you’re doing just fine.
I’m fascinated by spring, jacaranda petals and the countless anthologies that Mother Nature continues to write.

Purple sheets of petal,
Softly glowing in the dark
Of almost night.

Softly touching my cheek,
the enveloping cloud
surrounds me like a neon cloak.

I can see your face
reflecting in an overflowing
purple pool of mist.

And petals gently plopping,
enveloping the image
of your loveliness.

(Jacaranda madness)