The burning sun followed me on the drive today

Across the windows of buildings arched towards the sky

“I miss you, come play with me!” she calls

Don’t you see my leg is broken, my ligament torn?

In the glaring fullness of day

Her heart was broken, her dreams torn

A child’s hope is like sand in your hands

Longing for gentle words

I wish I could


The Gift of Words

A lonely writer wanders through words

Alleys and pathways of meaning and questions

Not a stone unturned, not a rose unpicked

One day I will find that door to knock upon your heart



Grandpa forgot where he put Grandma

But Grandma is not a plant or a pair of spectacles

So she put him in his place


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