At the mid noon hour
above the cell tower
over two frolicking kite
swoops a plane on flight.

It has grazed the sky
spotless and dry
smelling ground cavorts
nigh is airport.

Amid wind's flutter
diurnal moon quarter
eyes droop to a rest
weighed with dreams' harvest.

The plane port bound
is circling on a round
waiting landing call
slowing to a crawl.

Love this time alone
up from dirt and grime
fiddling my cellphone
keying nonsense rhyme.

there's almost always
an ambiguity
between what my words mean
and what my mind intends them to mean.

like, with loving intention, i tell her
i can't praise you enough

she smells a ploy in praise and enough.

she interprets them as
she hasn't done enough to deserve my praise.

then, when i tell her
with age you're maturing in beauty

she takes them to mean
i'm digging at her age
and her beauty is in doubt.

last, but not the least
when i compliment her thus
you've made my life full

she retorts

no more fooling.

the poems
I inspire
are much better than
the poems
I write
Thank goodness

The spider,
Is hanging by a thread,
He made it himself,
What's going through his head?

He doesn't think,
How fragile it is,
A little wind,
Will be the death of him.

Little sister
teach me how to write poems
I write with words, but you make my heart jump
I suddenly want to believe in Lily's

Little sibling
I keep reading you over and over
I thought I had talent, but compared to you
I barely exist

Little sister
I often feel the younger one
you seem to be so much further
in figuring out Life

Little sibling
I often worry
I wish I had the hope
I feel I need to give you

Little brother
you're the man of my dreams
and if you'll ever get your own world
please take me along!