sweet dreams

Photo by Nadezhda Moryak on Pexels.com
shake things up             
            shake things down        
shape things wild   
        a    n    d  
 
b           o              x 

      t     h    e   m   

          i      n 


          right 
                 or 
               wrong 

                 it’s all  

 t h e y ’ v e  
b   e    e   n 

* 
they’ve seen 
                   g   r    e    y  
they’ve seen 
                    b    l    a    c    k , 

demure shades— 
a field of 
d      r     e     a     m    s 

         right 
                 or 
               wrong 

                 it’s all  
 t h e y ’ v e  
s   e    e   n 

* 
now, 
    and then,        
          been... 
...and seen, 

tonight, 
      grey worlds, 
                 be
                   come     

s     w      e        e       t 

d          r         e         a        m      s 

ink tickles

Photo by Velroy Fernandes on Pexels.com
i write 
on your page
slightly tickling 
your skin 
with a
white 
f  e  a  t  h  e  r

dipping my finger
into the porcelain
inkwell—
so delicately
moist with 
i n d i g o
i n k

my soft
strokes very
lightly caress 
the most sensitive 
creases
on your 
p  a  g  e
 
i take my 
dripping finger,
full of sensuous thirst,
and autograph 
some verse bites
on your back
c  o  v  e  r

and all night long
i keep writing
free rhymes
until you 
drunkenly 
fall
a  s  l  e  e  p

no need
for more words
as smudged ink
reveals i am about
to lose a bird
of my own
f  e  a  t  h  e   r

so long,
writing lover
of mine—
here is one last
indigo ink
tickle
for your 

g o o d n i g h t
p  o  e  t  i  c
d   r   e   a   m    s

fallen leaves

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
do you think
i should let
go now

and stop
picking up
those fallen
leaves?

i loved 
collecting
them 
for my 
vintage
album

as inspired
by that
magical
bond

i

a
l
w
a
y
s

cherished,
embraced,
yet

n
e
v
e
r

e v e r
saw
flourish,

(d i d   i
j u s t
i   m   a   g   i   n  e
i t . . .?)

the touch
of those leaves
still feels
too raw 

i  t
s   t   i  r   s
m      y
s     o     u     l
n       a       k      e      d

yet, 
I keep
hoping
for the day

i’ll see your
handsome
tree

s
t
a
n
d
i
n
g

t
a
l
l

and, 
finally,
and,
s u r e l y,

f    o    r
e      v      e      r
g    
r     
e     
e
n