Pink blossoms rain down
A sea of tiny petals
Wash the cold pavement
Perspective
Whether fault belongs to you
Or in truth, may lie with me
It’s all about perspective
All that matter’s what you see
Roses
Roses are red, like the inside of your eyelids.
Fragments of dreams and memories swimming behind them.
Seeds planted with high hopes, Start to wither in winter.
Then are re-imagined in the spring.
Red, like the first drop of passion spilt. Like struggle, madness, – all but sadness.
Sadness only arrives in hues of the deepest blue, gives birth to perils in your head.
What a simple gift, that roses are red.
Sunset Over the Hills
The city grows still, under springtime sky
Shimmering in dusk’s golden light
Apollo weary, begins to rest
Birds fly the coop
Man does his best
sealed in ink 