salt.

I will cry on the inside and alone.
No attempts to try and describe
the salt that falls.
And no more metaphors to
disguise the words that were
never spoken enough.

in touch

I watch the crows fly away from each other in all directions, only to find one another again when they land. Misunderstood creatures, often seen as savages. But it is the true savage who is lost and out of touch.

2010

a resolution..
too many seasons have come and gone unnoticed.
enjoy these changing colors
and embrace all of it with me...

hereafter

Could I really be here?

Staring into the hereafter that has replayed itself over and over.

My arms are at a full lengths reach - I want to embrace this moment and hold it.

fast lane

Pushing me forward, like up a stairway

With
_no
_ Balance
__On
____each
____step

Moving forward - Falling forward

Stumbling
____Along the
__________way..

3-leaf Clover

She pointed to the names signed on her shoes, as if I were to know them.
A traveler, collecting flags of the world to add to her walking stick.
Her accent was heavy while telling us tales and stories of her homeland
I began to count the leaves on her many clovers, wondering if her luck had run out.
On the contrary she said, I'm the Mayor of Killarney.

Bells

Her shoes jingled, while the jazz man played.
But this was not done in sequence - as she walked around, and outside the music.
Were the bells to warn people of her presence?
Was it just to gain the attention she wouldn't otherwise have?
Or a way to easily count the steps of a road that she traveled alone?