Dark clean slate morn seeps in routine rumble of play & bananas. Sated they descend to felt tip
I love the jazz of rain - dad do you see me dig it? No polo neck, no clarinet but I’m moving in your
No marshmallow morning,
Pirates trod my back under moon.
Moored in still indigo sky we wait our
1974 he was gone.
Breath forced, she moved to the bang of a drum.
Now, soft snores of her 70 years
Come find me thru warp & weft
Throw off veiled heart & misted mind
Come back to us
Morning creeps up, brings blush. His words tucked in the pocket of my heart, you are a writer, you
Meet in dip-dye sky, all shy, hopes high, for moon doesn't need to show full self to be beautiful.