...

candle in the window
for the son of a widow...

turn your gaze to power
of life and death...

Of a mind that’s glad, dopamine-laced silken...
stays awhile, close by, sobre feet planted to...

Fresh and clean
to smell and feel...

Cease turning my green to grey
with wilful acts of nature...

If there be but two 
on this twilight moon's...

From the ground
the ceiling looks so much wider...

In the Mirror...

you are the schwa
of public domain...

Where it not for one to play buffoon
or to say of none we're way too soon...

When your winter breaks into spring
think of new and wonderful things...