All the blue of day slipped quietly away
the glass of the lake with little winds
waved the sun to sleep, rippling in steely colors
drowsy with glints of gold.
The pines soon went black as birds
and in the darkness disappeared.
At the closing of day
a lone call faintly heard,
a sadness, the weeping of a bird.

I am green in these hills
I wait all spring long
wait through grey rains
too early for summer flowers
I dream of sun fields brightest yellow
my heart a wild field that burns
my lips are paper seeking water
desolate in this desert
your lips now merely
a mirage.

Tonight the wind
the pouring rain through trees
hiss and whistle of kettle
water poured for tea
the lashing winter willows
this coal, dark storm that blinds
and hides away your face
and any trace of moon.

I’m in a field of nothing
I look for the opening, its hard not to think.
I clear my mind and fill it up with drugs to
Stop the emotions.
The field is my mind, there is no going back.
The weather is my emotions changes every few minutes,
One second it is sunny and chill.
The next second is the storm of nasty words and
Sharp objects.
The worst is the last the snow of numbness
When it touches get I confused and lost.
The field will grow one day
One day I will see the pretty views over the icy rivers.