she wore flowers in her head

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you are the distant hills bathed in gold
the indelible web spun through stories untold
happy laughter that echoes in longish corridors
hazel eyes that capture myriad dreams
of silks in green and gurgling streams

if only i could be what i think iam
i wouldn’t search for you in mirrors at every turn

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a september afternoon…

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she stood aloof watching the barrage
her lowered eyes hiding the glaze
the september sun toyed with her hair

the platform abuzz with all the crowd
nameless faces and bustling bodies
trains that came and went and carried along
lives & song and destinies all at once

he stood solid, sipping his tea
his mind alive with all that could be
his face a mask of urbane sanity

the scent of jasmine drew him in
as did her silhouette in chiffon
one look at her was all it took
to reign in thoughts of september, 2002

she boarded a train bound for west
he watched from afar, strangely bereft

A room with a view

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I can spend a day and then some imagining what lies behind a window with lace white curtains ….is there much laughter and good food? do they sip endless cups of tea? books strewn all about of little known authors ….maybe hand made notebooks in orange and fuchsia for all the little reminders and curios hand picked to mark travels to distant lands, each one lovingly enveloping a memory. Art on the wall that is evocative of knowing it all….sepia photographs of where it all began…tea cups in gay abandon lined up against a corner wall to snooty tea pots that frown …a riot of flowers …surely sunflowers? and jasmine? Sunlight that roams like a vagabond, crisp white linen and turquoise walls, frankincense that meanders about and somewhere a glass menagerie that bears witness to all that is fragile.