In shadows deep where silence starts to creep,
The weight of striving drapes like heavy mist.
A clock unwinds, its hands in thoughts that sleep,
Yet echoes shout of goals that can’t be missed.
With heavy hearts, the weary wander home,
Each sigh a ghost of burdens barely shed.
The stillness cracks, like ice beneath a dome,
As fates collide—the old self’s left for dead.
......
Purple plums were on the table,
With darkest grapes colored sable,
A vase of roses near the door,
Wafting fragrancy like before.
The dawn sun glowed at the windows,
A dreaming world on soft pillows,
The premature clock chimed the hour,
Like fondest hopes before they sour!
......
I was for long an active art enthusiast, with a special passion for still lifes,
As the roving, scarlet sun, develops late passion for the bustling nightlife.
I was ofttimes in large art museums, and I had traveled this whole world,
Always looking for another beautiful work, like lustrous moonlight pearls.
I zealously hunted lovelies by day, but I was a wide eyed, night owl, too,
As bright meteors turn into shooting stars, then disappear from our view.
My fabulous family shared in my zeal, and we often compared artworks,
......
Mauve sun is rising
far across the frothy sea
From mists emerging
at the edge of the blue world
and the pause of dusky night
Destination noon
and blithe before and after
Headed everywhere
In the quiet room of time
......
I was a learned meteorologist, studying azure atmosphere and vivid weather,
To give a prophetic daily forecast, like bees gliding remote locales of heather.
Often I had to issue advisories and warnings, like a jumbo roar of yellow lion,
So plans could be made and trouble avoided, until a new, lemon-gold horizon.
I also gathered much data to share, like enlightening ambles in green nature,
Where each beauty bloom's a true eyeopener, maroon scented ones so major!
Forests wore foxgloves, freesia and forget-me-nots, and friends came to call,
......
In shadows deep where silence starts to creep,
The weight of striving drapes like heavy mist.
A clock unwinds, its hands in thoughts that sleep,
Yet echoes shout of goals that can’t be missed.
With heavy hearts, the weary wander home,
Each sigh a ghost of burdens barely shed.
The stillness cracks, like ice beneath a dome,
As fates collide—the old self’s left for dead.
......
I was a learned meteorologist, studying azure atmosphere and vivid weather,
To give a prophetic daily forecast, like bees gliding remote locales of heather.
Often I had to issue advisories and warnings, like a jumbo roar of yellow lion,
So plans could be made and trouble avoided, until a new, lemon-gold horizon.
I also gathered much data to share, like enlightening ambles in green nature,
Where each beauty bloom's a true eyeopener, maroon scented ones so major!
Forests wore foxgloves, freesia and forget-me-nots, and friends came to call,
......
I was for long an active art enthusiast, with a special passion for still lifes,
As the roving, scarlet sun, develops late passion for the bustling nightlife.
I was ofttimes in large art museums, and I had traveled this whole world,
Always looking for another beautiful work, like lustrous moonlight pearls.
I zealously hunted lovelies by day, but I was a wide eyed, night owl, too,
As bright meteors turn into shooting stars, then disappear from our view.
My fabulous family shared in my zeal, and we often compared artworks,
......
Mauve sun is rising
far across the frothy sea
From mists emerging
at the edge of the blue world
and the pause of dusky night
Destination noon
and blithe before and after
Headed everywhere
In the quiet room of time
......
visitors coming
expectancy afternoon
a hush in the blooms
saffron soon Sunday
and cardinal sings redly
cream clouds paint blue sky
butterflies flitting
through the forests of color
......