Black skies are
my solitude...

At the age of seventeen, I justified
my thoughts as opium...

French kiss
my thoughts within...

I left England back in the old age,
belonging to the same iris's, soul...

Brown crayon's cross over lines
rebellious, was my nickname...

I whispered a vow to the sky
of breezes sprinkled in Jasmine...

Attempting to craft a sonnet,
with ebb and flow of unique...

It was an early spring,
under moonlit stars...

Dragonflies sing tunes
upon a blue misty dusk...

I submitted a whisper
upon negativity's ear...

Crackles, shackles
of hardwood creepers...

To begin with I may seem shy
But don't be afraid to speak to me...