Ripe apples falling
Upon auburn crunchy leaves...

Rain drops from above
Gently quench a dry meadow...

Stifling and torrid was
the day you passed...

Everything makes more sense
when it rains...

This empty atrium
has a high ceiling...

I’d like to sail the ocean
but i’m sealed...

The river flows,
flows like a tear...

Bored of earth limits
The boat took off from water...

An old rocking chair
Creaking on the sunlit porch...

Of smoke and sand
saltiness between cement...

Sometimes I sit down to write
But my hands are firm...

Her dark crystal hair
Stands out on the limpid sea...