Mist, crystals of the morning,
Are gathering around the towering
Skyscrapers, clinging to the window.
Dawn alights her train
And gentle
Scatters hue.
I leap from the window to fly with her.

Red:  the color of a friend’s cheeks as she smiles
Orange: the end of a pristine day
  Yellow:  the feeling of the sunshine on my shoulders  
   Green:  a new leaf springing from the ground
      Blue:  the hue of a tear from a soft heart
          Violet:  the flower that blooms at night
                                                
White:
I shatter the prism
And all I see is light.

At the crossroads
Basking in the golden glow
Afternoon pouring upon our shoulders
Tender smiles
Will carry us miles
On the journey that we are destined to go

When steel meets with courage
In the strength of the dawn
Will we hold our heads high
To face the sun?

As we gather our sorrows and strengths
In our packs
We say goodbye
As we cross the tracks
And the tears that gather
Like armies in our eyes
Will show us the way to a new sunrise

And will I clasp your hand
For the very last time
Whispering:
The  future is yours and mine

A calm tide rushes in upon
Writings in the glittering sand
Dew, sparkling, shatters morning light
Dawn blushes, hues waning under pacific clouds

Then, I see a window.
Lucid blue
A sliver, a slice out of dawn's constant blush
And a little white bird lends  me its feathers
So I lift my eyes...

Then I rise.

When I was a young girl,
Maybe five or six,
With thick, chestnut brown hair curled
This way and that,
I collected words:
Beautiful words, long words, strange words, pious words --
Words

I journeyed through seas, foreign lands, and valleys to find them
I probed jungles of tangled letters and
Oceans of fragile paper
I climbed the creased valleys of books

And when I found the right word,
I captured it like a caterpillar
And held it close to my heart,
Placing the word inside a glass jar

Where everyday I could contemplate its beauty and constancy

Not ready to release them,
Afraid to let them go,
I quietly watched them sprout paper wings
And flutter about within my jar

And when the time ripened upon its branches,
I set them free on paper


I can still hear the echoing flutter of their wings...