Sunday, July 12, 2015


Shape-shifting tresses
strange juxtapositions
revealing imaginations
we enter the twilight
of life.
The strip-tease
tangled strands of the tree
a welcome home
of wayward insects,
a larder for birds,
and education
for prising fingers
of curious children.
A wooden tear
from heartwood
in the eye
of a witness to lovers
and passions of youth;
it has no names carved
in etched revelation.
It cries alone
for wasted love.

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