Bag

A guest in every home I was.
A survival kit in every box.
A moment shared with self again.
A person that was still, there.

Kiss

Fleeting moments gathering fast, 

quickly setting sun.

Urgent kisses frantic pressed,

lovely reply.

August

a rush from a cool breeze
a last sweat from the sun

moments taken to reflect
the daylights hastened run

a smiled moment shared
memories made in joy

June 2015

Hope

The storm never stops, the peace never comes.
A world apart from ourselves we live.
No hopeful truths endure and rust,
not matter what they give.

Hope and lies they grow no matter,
what poison is brewed to beat.
The end is part of all beginnings,
though this ends not in defeat.

Year

Every year a new post. Every post another glance.

Winter

The movement of the sun had its moment, and returns. The daze pains more every annum.

Keep on

It is working, killing that fire. Keeping the flames from burning away all that is supposed to be real, read with two syllables. The reluctance has grown and its life is willing to crush the little lives. The good morning, the piece that hurts is hiding under a pile of flotsam in the corner. Working hard to make the days go fast, not giving up any of it. The fights I will never win. They are eclipsed by the fights I was scared to make.

The miserly misery of it all, with sunshine still shining across the field.