A pot of coffee
A cup of tea
A moment with a laughing child
The fall of orange leaves

The bite of a muse
Music that feels like flying
A best friend dying
Clothes that fit the first time

Winning a prize
Being unable to describe
Wet rain after a long hot day
Lying in a bed of hay

Hooves of a horse
Being stuck in tar
Noises of the bazaar
Loosing a eye like a Norse

Images in your mind
To a one who is blind
Feeling tree bark
That last red light

Opening a can of soda
A stone that’s smoother than any other
white cliffs of Dover

Soft touch
Clouds fluffy, lightning guest
Numbers on a screen
Much is not what it seems


Red dress

Red again
This time a dress
Imagine yourself in it
Feeling the cloth
Every bit of your skin tingles with delight
Your feeling freer than ever
Not a illusion, the mirror gives you
Your acutely you.
No one else
No one is telling you otherwise
It’s your day
You start to walk
It’s a lovely morning to be a woman
One day

Given inside

Near the roads
Mushroom starts to grow
Birds feel their feathers
I breathe the hallowed air
Are they waiting?

The crystal
Round squarely orange marble

Nothing is that
Wrong has to be it
Grey on the other side

Bags and standing
Watching the leaves
Wind blows without a breeze
Concentrated in a pulp

Reflection my mind
Clothes that don’t fit
Trucks that have bets
Obsession with hives