Under every dark, hidden corner -
there is a soul buried within mossy tears...

She is the breeze of a tropical
midnight, drenched in rain drops...

Late September
eleven souls fly...

When your little one
nests in a womb...

Paint chips fall gracefully
like a freshly, fallen snow...

Haunted air
swirls round...

Colored crayons
scribbled messages...

Colors of cotton passion
radiate magnetic blue...

Crops grow within my soul
as tears nurture growth...

Snow dusting begins
within a tranquil memory...

The true demise
of a scalding...

He played upon tree limbs
while I weaved dandelions in my hair...