Once youthful and fresh with vibrant petals scented Now dried and withered, fragile, faded, wrinkled, brittle.
The tick, tick, ticking clock resounds off the walls of the tiny room, reminding her each second she is alone. It’s always the same, she awakens, moves to the window and sits. Waiting.
The scent of earth after a gentle rain Memories washed in shades of autumn’s gold Tempers the black grief, relieves the harsh pain Seasons changing leaves once brilliant yet cold
Time, so precious here and now in the winter of my life as I ponder what I’ve done and what I’ll leave behind
Today is overcast with sporadic rain showers. I wished for rain on my birthday and here it is. Unusual for Arizona. While running an errand, I look up into the slate sky and I see them. Flying above the neighborhood community whose cruel nickname… Continue Reading “Grey Sky Rain”
a hat to cover the body of our master withered pampas leaves Shinshi (haigo of Takarai Kikaku)
In the dreaming hours juxtaposed between keeping watch on the ticking clock and