I had a place I called my own A place no one could seeA solitary kind of home…
Can’t placate
The ceiling spun with amber raystwisted with metal gold sparklesbroken from nights charades.
Lightning predictedBlister toedBrilliant dancerOr the awrange glowOf awkward moments?
A spider burrowedThe webs to a perfect funnelThe way it’s kind does.
When circling a line
Things seldom connect
In curvature of the skin,meeting delicately ever with sun and the elements.Shone through the impeded atmosphere,delicately dancing around…