If wonderment burst into dreams
could they fall into the skies-
aching to blend the clouds
into pictures that reflect
the words of emotion.
elusive in musings-
speechless of the perfect lines;
to portray the dawn,
without the cliche of tangerine.
Mother earth weeps willows
in spells of writers block.
Pondering how to weave a masterpiece.
Sunsets yearning to whisper
expressions through painted hues;
endeavoring for a flame
to spark the artist's wick.
Instead tar stained clouds simmer
regurgitating broken thoughts;
and half hearted ideas.
None of which move mountains
In strict forms of frustration
inked on a downpour.
Metered syllables of lightening
break the sky-
until it falls through winds;
nudging edges of pen tips- in waiting
to scroll the paper mache of midnight
with stars and moon.
Expressions ignite worlds;
where a canvas in the sands-
etch- Inspired.
The breeze rustling sheets of heart;
kissing pitter patters across fresh grasses,
that sway and bend, to tickle smiles.
Until they bloom-
an epiphany......
Gold trophy winner
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