Upon the hourWhen all else failsAnd your eyes throb deeply with despairKnowing…
I wish I hadn’t gotten so high. It was something you had warned me about. It had been two years since I’d seen you. I showed up in that…
The mark of a good and artful poem,is that it often means more than simplywhat the poet imagined or…
In your armsthe stillness prevailsthe sweet breath exhales
Prevailing winds scatter/ thoughts
