On the beach

where i stand

toes buried

deep in the sand

to each

their own

was worried

but no more.



Just a moment wavering in the air,

holding on before it unfurls.

Gently letting go with care,

as it whirls away in those blue ivory curls.

A hug, a caress, a touch…

of a second which seems so faint.

Yet to not have enough,

to uncouple the real and the feint.

All that is left here is echos,

all that is left here is echos.



A moment,

life flickers

like film

in a reel.


frame by




every day.



every emotion



runs out


to black.


High Beam Daydream

Go where the road untangles and unfurls

by those cliff side views over those blue curls

lit only by those high beams off those white pearls.

Only sense of direction is the road ahead

no going back just only forwards instead

as going prevents drifting to the sea bed.

The white sea foam crashes amongst the shore

those high beams persist only for Salvadore

the light bends around the corner then no more.



Months have come and went,

time left and spent.

Moments of eternity and bliss,

here now to witness.

A blink as blue skies,

turn grey in old eyes.

Bells have began their knell,

and leaves have all but fell.

Hold on,

cold song,

I long to live.



The lights flickered up and down the dim avenue,

every flicker reflecting off the puddles on the ground.

For a moment these are the only movements in view,

until a car under the veil of night comes round.

The car that comes to a stop is an old rugged Polara Pursuit,

the door swings open to let out an old gentleman in a black-as-tar suit.

He takes his dormant hands from his pockets to pull a cigar and a light,

takes a second to look around before taking the cigar to his lips and ignite.

The nicotine hits and the tar burns through his mouth and down his neck,

smoke fills the air as he patiently waits hoping he wasn’t given a rain check.

Embers burn off of the cigar into the night sky fading back to the stars,

the distant sound of the road echoes with the sound of passing cars.



The wind blows

where does it go

nobody can know.

The river’s flow

topples like dominoes

through the meadow.

Out the window

of the small chateau


an old willow.


The Soloist

The soloist closes their eyes and leans in to play their instrument,

an intertwined movement as the musician and their tool becomes one.

An ever so subtle look of one who loves to that which is intimate,

knowing the bond that is formed now may never be undone.

The dance is bittersweet as the moment has already began to fade,

a beautiful sight with the undertones of a melancholic symphony.

Even though the house lights stayed a lit and the music swayed

the musician could see the end coming of this moment so vividly.

This temporary music spreads out into infinity,

where all is left is the memories.

Notes and undertones that almost approach divinity,

where all is left is the reveries.

The house lights went out, the musician left gasping for air.

Every delicate sensation overwhelmed but they didn’t care.



Images we carefully hang on the wall

hung carefully so it might not fall.



Ripples of water, reflections of the night sky

and inflections of why, words came but all authors’

pens dried and faltered, moments of the divine

lost to the sacrilege of time, senses came but altered.

Darkness came and surrounded,

confusion came and confounded,

as deep as valleys, as tall as mountains,

heartbeat in chest pounded.

Little lamp lead the way, the end is not today.

Tomorrow will come and stay, so do what I must to stay

a lit by this gentle flame, as all of will not be in vane.

I said aloud in a moment of panic to stay sane.

But time came and the light did not falter,

faith grew in this little, little light of mine,

and it grew to shine without any signs of alter.

Hope flickered as the flame stayed a lit on the twine.

Alone and afraid, frayed rope dwindling

burning as vibrant kindling, however closer did it fade

luckily in the darkness laid, countless stars swindling.

My heart rejoices as I have made it to the rekindling.

No longer alone, no longer afraid

pulse dropped, pounding laid to rest

the stars came and a lit my flame

I need to thank them all by name.

As I laid staring up at the stars,

feeling so small and alone on Mars,

I forgot all of the people who have came

who shared their flame and allowed me to share my flame.

I hope I can keep being your flame,

and a piece of yours mine.

Days will be dark and dreary,

but glow on and glow forth into the night.