She cried for a little gingerbread
because its arm was missing...

Days are withering in vain
corroding like my chain...

Look how the moth swapped
its withered yellow wings with...

Every now and then
a poem coiled in scroll of an acumen...

The dawns of towns are
empowered by the shadows...

He wished to tell though
he chose silence instead so...

Tranquillity
is to recognise...

We shut our doors close,
keep checking if they are locked...

I did not know that with colours you could sketch...

The reason we keep on going
is that we are not going anywhere...

Yet eager for more
noticing in the mirror...

No acceleration in the falling speed
of a feather oscillating...