She spelled out "Help Me"
on a clouded, mist mirror...

He held her hand on a day
that most would consider...

They tell me.....
I'll be writing her final stanza soon...

I hear her sorrow song
playing upon the clouds...

A memory-
Lake miola was buzzing...

Piano sonatas burdened a lost soul
as scorpions whispered upon deaf ears...

Inside the eye of a lonely wanderer
is a mother he loved so dear...

If I write of the sadness
that imprisons a thirsty...

Ravens drift to sunshine
like a taboo superstition upon...

Depths of my soul, crave poetry
it is the bloodline to my heart...

Cold and dreary feels like yesterday,
falling snowflakes, a lonely New York, a few...

Serpent tongue dives
deeply in the larynx...