He was blessed with
a wicked sense of humour...

as I read your letters-
your words...

..where shadows of the moon,
shimmer in the breeze. The lake...

Drenched in seduction it
Emulates the...

I
never know what...

I walked slowly across
your bed made of soft grains of sand...

Disparate visions, dwell in my mind.
Reels of metaphysical images...

If I could be carried upon the air
twirling and flying, and wave at the moon...

There isn't anything, more amazing as
when you come across, a cherished poem...

I talk to you-
about how the moon turns...

Peddling my pedestal of potty poetry
I feel flamboyant, and carefree...

Domicile digs within a concrete shell
of a pallid place where I used to dwell...