Puréed senses spin, visions become a blur
Slow cooked handprints, deep in the sand, imprints seeking the core
Marinated memories, flavored interpretations changing by the moment
Whiskey chaser, troubled thoughts no more
Puréed senses spin, visions become a blur
Slow cooked handprints, deep in the sand, imprints seeking the core
Marinated memories, flavored interpretations changing by the moment
Whiskey chaser, troubled thoughts no more
Bent rusty nails, snagging shirts walking by
Torn up unread letters scattered in the wind
Rooftop proclamations delivered to the sky
Passing clouds, salvation as they float by
Holding gazes with the sun
Warmth cradles my face
And blinds me just enough to continue on
Open windows
Letting the breeze hit my face
A sting that travel throughout my spine
Eventually turning everything numb
Yet I stand there, unmoving
With no idea what I’m waiting for
Fingertips on wooden walls
Hanging on
Gravity creeps in
Pushing weight down to the tips of my toes
And I find myself
Sweating to the heat of the moon
And looking forward to the cool breeze of the sun
Mixed up thoughts lounge in waiting rooms
As waiting and wanting become mistaken for one another
Counting to ten
Lists roll through the currents of my mind
One for two
Two for ten
Breathing life into my fingertips
Helping me to hang on
Sea swells serenade wanting lips
Harvested moons watching from above
Saturated life flows in surround sound
A collection of bits and pieces encircle me
Where do I go to let go
Change falls from pockets, upside down
But slowly moves through the threads of moments past
Gentle breezes follow, providing nudges forward from behind
A refreshing encounter, a history of gale winds in the opposite direction
.
Autumn leaves fall, oranges and reds whirl to a silent melody
Creating a familiar scent without words to describe
Muted to the ears, but not the touch
Layers shed, unencumbered go I
.
Give me your hand
Let’s go to valleys of colored glasses
Racing rain drops
Falling dreams, rising spirits
Pockets of sunshine dance
To the sound of ripened apricots
I lie in fields far from home
Retrieving morning songs, daybreak
I don’t remember falling asleep
The waiting suspends me in midair
Completely in your hands I lie
The stream of your voice floats softly
Causing rippled waves beneath me
Defying gravity I remain above
Not wanting to let you go
Intersections hang from ceilings
Dangling wind chimes in the cool evening air
Outstretched upward gazes, looking for connections
Piecing together tomorrow’s road maps
Uncertainty in the air