these blushed florets
weave daydreams
and love poems;

but in truth,
these blossoms
can be anything
you want them to be;

the magic only appears
when the heavenly body
calls them out
to celebrate
joy, sorrow, and love.

it’s the beauty of reason
that we give them

that makes a flower
a flower,

and a human,
triumphant.

Mid-October,
with leaves spilled
like colored pencil shavings ---

the streets dicing our town
into neat, unfair portions ---
and me, eatin' that *****.

Sometimes the pain is so intense
That people forget to smile
Sometimes you're so tired
You lose all the interest
Sometimes the wait is so long
Your words value doesn't matter
Sometimes your body doesn't
Carry the weight which normally carries

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    m                                       d
      b                                         e
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         o
           f        h     o     p     e        w
             m                                       i
                e                                        t
                                                            h