3:00 am,
the witching hour
magic in the air

Shredding guitars
crank up the volume
Say something!

poppy field inviting us
to consume it's fragrance
the deep sleep awaits

October chill
my eyes adjust to the night
crickets singing their song

kicking legs to
get back up, a young deer
beside the road

early morning
goodbyes
too tired to cry

reminiscing the past
a struggle to cope
another soul lost

made of stone
encased
sitting in a corner

No one
needs me

the amazing look
beautiful eyes
elegant voice

slow dancing at the wedding
grand baby held
between us

empty cup
its bristles peak out of it
just waiting