@Chamomile 23 August 2020 more from that month

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, room pitch dark Dewdrops in my window pane Whipped covers of destruction, united haywire skin Shrouding clouds in ticks of flash of nostalgia Meandering to suit the portrait that I am in More than all I need Mirrors darkness, you’re all I see Resting your bones in my asylum Fingers tracing your stars of silhouette Dashes of daub, hewing a gray scale photograph Sway like twigs in a hurricane, back and forth Flicking spectacle, still unruffled **Things assembling pebbles of lucidity, swallowing hardest gem** **Striking the road, burning red light to green** **Someday, it would lead me back to your home.**