A rare, warm, sunny day.

When nature’s young,

Can run freely and play. ...

Torn and worn.

Getting old.

But it’s not so bad. ...

Another cold, grey morning.

August has barely begun, yet

Summer feels long gone. ...

Patterns distract.

Colors soothe.

Frayed truths, ...

Wooden hearts,

Need to be painted,

Adorned, ...

Cloudy skies,

Green fields,

Distant villages, ...

Flower petals,

Turned to cloth.

Nature’s green, ...

With wings,

Able to fly,

But joyless, ...

Nothing remains intact,

Forever.

Some things even shatter, ...

On rare occasions,

Eyes perceive,

Moments of magic, ...

Harmoniously assembled.

Beautifully placed.

Texture and shape, ...

A peaceful morning.

Sun slowly rising.

Waves gently crashing. ...

Another year, has

Vanished into emptiness.

Images provoking thoughts. ...

A place of dreams…

To picnic,

Or lay back, ...

Looking into a mirror,

Is hard.

Especially when, ...

Some days are clear.

Shining, sparkling,

Sprinkled with drifting clouds. ...

Tilted, worn out, alone.

Hiding visible cracks,

As much as it can. ...

Cracks.

Obvious outside.

But not those, ...

“What,

To wish,

To be.” ...

Growing,

Like years gone by.

In a small safe corner, ...