One June-born morn, he rose again,
From slumber deep, through fog and rain.
Top hat askew, stars slightly worn,
He blinked - confused, both proud and torn.

The billboards screamed in crimson red:
“Make America Great Again,” it said.
He frowned, recalling distant years,
Of sacrifice, of hopes, of tears.

He scrolled the screen with weathered hands:
Tax cuts, coal, divided lands.
Judges...

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When the night doth come, weary follows distantly. 

Toiling farther from the dawn with each passing sunset, offers not the distraction so sought out by its woeful captor.

With worried mind and worried soul and yearning for slumber. Not for rest, but for release. 

Relentless is the repeat of ruminating reasoning. Soul wrenching speculation scews sensibility, until slowly and sluggishly sle...

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Shades of grey paint happy faces on my thoughts

As the cool breeze sets my mind on chill

Flashes of light brightens the beyond

If only for a moment

And that moment sits and simmers for a lifetime

I’m at the most calm when there’s rain drops

When everything else slows down

And the dust in the air dissipates

Senses are charmed by those rain drops

Inhibitions lose thei...

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On a hot summers eve close to the twighlight,

the marble of crimson came rolling down past sight.

Misty clouds coating the ever changing sky.

birds whistle their last tune before slumber calls them.

Stars begin to light.

Soon it will be night.

Close to the twighlight.

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