The Cold

Its winter
And the cold has not left me from summer

There is an echo
And the heat surges up

But only lost out
Because with nowhere to find and stay

The cold will win
And remain

A Whisper

A whisper
Calling a name
Not mine
Or perhaps
It is
A life
I long
To find
Or missed
By picking the wrong path

It’s so faint
And gnawing
But not worth stopping for

Yet

If only you could see

The stars when it rained

The purity & clarity

To wash your soul and tears

I feel sand between fingers

And a beach with endless shores

Just to touch the water

Feel the breeze

Wishes for me

Let there be stars when it rains

Every morning doves come to my window
Every morning I close my window

They have come to sing to my day
A day I dread with every dove that sings

Every day the doves fly away
Hoping tomorrow will changes my disposition

Every evening I open my window
To listen to the nightingale sing to my night

I always color
Within the lines
Carefully pushing each stroke
To the sharpest edge

Each masterpiece
Reaching mass view

Others cross the lines
Shadings blur
Into unwelcome chaos
Any genius now denied

No matter how great
It began wrong