These trees before me, sing so peacefully.
Their words are mixed with the breeze...
I feel nervous at first
as there is only blackness...
I am broken
I know this fact quite well...
How does one contend?
I see you fishing in the reservoir...
You were the very glue that held this
family together, our center of gravity...
a stone
alone tried to poke...
You were never purple;
I was...
My typewriter is my instrument.
Hear me banging furiously...
The clouds stalk the meadow leisurely
The skies changing into a deep, violent gray...
The ride back
home was silent...
I find you in the saffron
stars, scintillating in my...
Just a touch of death
is what sometimes bring us back...