Rose Hill (Lilibonelle...

Autumn, nineteen forty-three,
my eyes have seen death...

Scapegoat
A sickened state of mind...

As children often do,
I too, begged and pleaded...

Shrieks of maniacal laughter
Often invade my thoughts...

Song of the Siren
Wispy strands the color of wheat...

Pieces of "her" linger
nested in the beams of this house...

There is something
about Winter...

Toasting mallows
over graying ashes...

No salt filled tears do fall
Only leaves that seldom shed...

Struggling to be seen,
in a world where few redeem...

Occasionally,
I take a different route...