These three poems were written on the same day. When I read them over, I realized they belonged together.
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I ache in the morning, / climbing out of dreams / leaving you behind. / I stand outside; / wait to feel the wind, / you hands have plaited
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Tell me to go to hell, / I will continue to love you. / But, I will no longer knock upon your door, / haunt the breeze and curl in your eav
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Bright is the open road; / destinations lost in the blue hills. / Islands eroding or back still waters filled / to become pennisulas. / Whi
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