An autumn day brings
The morning amber,
Noon's rays pouting haggard
Hit the fifth fair floral
The evening suite,
Nestling wild spaces
For our memories keep.

Incognito was my game,
until no one could remember my name.

Drama free all of the time,
until lacking attention became a crime.

Crushing on a star in my eyes,
until it came and broke my skies.

Wishing everything was well,
but left alone in a forgotten hell.

Shedding petals pretty in color,
defined in their detail,
make art as they hover..

No tie to each other,
although they're connected,
one moves, all move,
cause they all get affected.

A part of the tree living life as a family.

But some fall and go shedding the tree,
what a tragedy.
To time cometh their woe and to woe comes great wisdom.

Some petals great,
others harsh,
but all are a part of the kingdom.

I held on to the foreshadowed results of a life without fun,
but all it took to change my mind was the warm light kiss that came from the sun.

Sometimes I focus on perpetually inevitable doom,
but often the time that's stolen by the trees,
petals,
and life around me that may bloom.

So if my woes are petals,
then so are my joys,
which some may shift and change,
and sometimes appear coy.

Because life is a place plentiful of joys and woes,
know,
like petals,
what comes will and eventually goes.

I’m not sure how to say this after 20+ years
But thank you for trying to remove all my fears
For arguing with me when you think I’m wrong
For supporting me through every silly song
We’ve often clashed but I wouldn’t have it any other way
And I mean it when I write “Happy Mother’s Day”

these days feel quiet,
so muted and blurry.
as May drags on
i find myself searching.
searching for memories of you
down every avenue.
time moves slow
like your fingers tracing my lips.
but sometimes far too fast
like our drives down I-90.
i wish i could just press pause
and take it all in.
truly feel the moment
because i never know when it ends.

April showers bring May flowers
They say, they've said for ages gone
But what when April's dry as bones
Parched and bleached by desert suns
And May, her lover, weeps and groans
And the flowers blossom anyway?

take an itch, wait
scratch it,
did the itch ax fo d scritch or was that

you

voice in the head of the ehearer

radio, maybe so
maybe so
Frank Zappa, or
Emily Dickenson
or Suzie Creamcheese,

only her words reamain, yet
remain
mainly in my head a phrase

it seems, a phase shift
maybe so

electric trickery, I don't know

can you hear me now, is there reason?
is reason being
reasoned with?

Are we, reasoning together,
and you know not
is it me, it is

maybe so. May is thy word,
in this phase of
your moon

fuzzy light croissant logo,
Batman or is that a cross, and a rho?
Chi Rho praxis nexus Latin lying
demnation time wastin'

funny books, retelling stories
as if it's true, as if
I heard it, I told it, as I read it,
believing every word.

Classic Illustrated.

What good does that do you?
I confess,
Professor, I don't know

if, right or wrong, ification is
done by me or mere
fictional
May, the power, given a go.
I could say. May is my word, now.

May my best wish be,
the quest is,
good beyond reason,
doing that phase shift

electional trick to May,
seasonal reason
for unbridled joy.

Tending, pretending, trending
means more to AI than I.
May I make the difference?
Say I may.
May is your word now.