Since when have leaves from that tree care
if winds move them with a whisper...

You never wrote a sonnet on that thread
nor have you posted one in your account...

a mountain
turns into...

a flower
sprouts from roots...

a green frog
croaks to leap...

One day, the Dust said to a Broom,
“Love, sweep me off the floor...

As I walk the streets,
and as the sunsets...

The blues of the oceans are deep.
Many dive into them...

When I first laid a bite, I saw black and white;
a bunch of bright stars. What a delight...

my week has been a raining day so far
with winds semi-calm and clouds as grey...

In front of a window, an orange cat
and a white mouse dreamily sit...

while skies cry
puddles gather ‘round...