Barely Eighteen,
crouching in the scrub...

The mountain lies
crumbled and worn...

Sitting in her home office,
a pristine, spotless, organized space...

A small spark sets it off,
A small stick helps it grow...

The caged bird looks out
and sees the free bird wheeling in the sky...

Love is like a rose;
Beautiful, with a razor edge...

Two frogs,
Were sitting on a log...

When I look into your eyes,
There's nothing I despise...

The way you smile,
The way you walk...

The snow drifts down,
lazily floating to and fro...

Annoying. Dumb. Idiotic.
These all describe you...

There is a place where I lose myself...
Your hair: a cascading wave of shimmering black...