Disk of white, like a tusk in the sky
lingers between the canopy...

Writing about her who is me,
has always been a cloudy mystery...

Stillness kills curiosity,
yet fascinates the human mind...

Crack...
goes my pen...

Warmth...
from pressed lips...

His sturdy hands work through
the stiffness of his art...

Swaying
... against your nerves...

Clean floats my abstract existence
serene, an enveloping canopy of clouds it abides...

Pupils dilate
In the middle of the night...

Falling leaves bluring
Against coruscating rays...

Memory knelling and gnawing
internally trilling wave's nestled...

Droplets of freedom slip on cheeks
Mixed with essences of joy and sorrow...