Linger.

Letters

The flick

of the screen

patterns on mist

of lovely things

quite usable

over the course

of years gone by

what we adore

becomes forgotten

and all those words

things of the past

The Path

Old man

how I love him

he will

be missed

Trust

Hey!

It's alright

White picket fences

with tall green 

grass

forgotten memories

it's so foggy

where he might be

some clear indication

an all knowing sign

from the curious streams

of continuous thought

tighter and tighter

it goes

before the balloon 

breaks

Picture

I stay

seated at

an empty table

the rushing water

taking over

pushing chairs

and plates

I am full.

Destiny

There is a place

drifting seas

of wondrous time

how happy hands lead

keep sharp

young one

Madness

Clumsy

stall backwards

rushed by

the wind

a furious 

disease.

Journal

The red string

caught lovingly

holding place

between the fabrics

of this world

and the next

while I drift

into dream