May 2012
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Ode to This
By light of my candle,
And glow of my pipe;
Past steam of my tea,
On cold winter nights.
The pages are thin,
The words they are strong.
They tear through mine eyes,
And play Me a song.
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The Paper Alchemist
Little Black Book, Little Black Book,
Tell me all your secrets.
You hide away what minds do play
And turn carbon into gold.
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To Luna
As I reach over and put out the light
I feel the moon upon my shoulder blaze.
My eyes gape up into the pristine white
And feel the warming of a mothers gaze.
Soft darkness is all rested round my room
But interrupted by the bursting blue.
And rays of lavender begin to bloom
To cradle me into a sleeping coo.
I feel my tired muscles easing back
All swollen from the blood-flow devoid of.
A...
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