Organized, delineated, predictable.

Tattooed with foreign words,

Numbers, symbols. ...

Old, wooden mailbox.

With a key, in plain sight.

Simpler times. ...

Strange sight.

Not the blue sky,

On a winter day. ...

Prisons,

Built inside one another.

Emptiness, ...

You look cold.

“Who’s speaking,

Fence, or snow?” ...

Pieces fall off,

When one opens up,

Naturally. ...

Dirty, wrapped tightly,

Hard to breathe.

Like days, ...

Circles,

Wrapped in years.

Memories, ...

Cold, imprinted treads.

Laying still.

Hanging on, for tomorrow. ...

Open,

Smiling with the flowers.

Ready, ...

Life’s no different

Than autumn leaves,

Floating in a pond. ...

Day’s ending.

You’re tired.

Rest. ...

Hazy blooms.

Together, laughing,

Readying to play. ...

Ordinary, cloudy days,

When magic, on nearby horizons,

Floated by unfelt. ...

Cotton-like softness.

Fragile, as love.

Impossible to remain so, ...

You have pointy ears,

Big nose with whiskers,

Skinny legs, ...

Blue, unexpected days.

When things go wrong, and

Little feels right. ...

Half-covered in light.

Soon, to be totally bright.

But light fades ...

One-eyed frog,

With a melting snow hat.

Or a piece of green rubber, ...

Maybe I’ll stick to you,

Like ice,

On cold winter days. ...