Rain falls quietly on leaves–
grey skies embrace me
in the moist, cold dampness
of a wet November day.
Wet November
Tag Archives: writing
Imprint
How many pink sunsets do we carry within us?
Lost memories, trinkets of conversations stored within
cotton candy clouds in my mind. Little shards of flat
Ohio landscapes, slices of Canadian summers, thoughts
filed away and kept safe; imprinted on the past
like a sticky carnival hand stamp.
I touched…
your green ribbons laced with thorns
and was relieved that your threatening
presentation was so beautifully exaggerated.
Individual
Water, crystal, sand or sunshine,
sawdust, cotton, land or lightening–
What are we really made of?
Forest Faerie
If I were a sweet little faerie
I’d live close to the forest leaves.
I’d lasso a lovely monarch
and fly free on the afternoon breeze.
Early Evening
Sunset daisy reaches for a little more light
in the early evenings of November.
Little pup…
I love you all the more for the happiness you rest upon her .
Have a seat…
and tell me about your past–
tell me how you go about your days,
how you’ve gone about your life
in the frigid silence that halts my beating heart.
Tarantula
The feelings you inspired in me may have been
completely irrational, however I enjoyed the primitive fear
that crawled up my spine upon seeing you sauntering
leisurely across the parking lot.
Looking Through Portholes
Pour me a drink, offer me a smoke,
read me a book, take a gentle nap
and let’s watch the rain dance on the water.
spanishwoods 