In the culpable darkness of the shadows, there is a thin stream of light, bordering the darkness, shining mutedly- patient, and cynical of the possibility of dawn or rainbows Homely little pockets of grief simmer at the edges, waiting to be cultivated by greedy words….

  Worlds apart— I feel your touch Foreign from a place I know— Memories— yet it’s sometimes too much For the wings I wish to borrow   Wings I wish to wear— To fly across these skies To hold you and to bare The love…