dedicated to my blue-eyed baby!
Little crumpled post-its hidden under sleeves
make-shift melodies paused and played
drifting like flute tones in the wind
a rare earth bound twiglet rooting itself
eyes, nay, searchlights reading chapters in the clouds
wrapping texts of thought beneath the skin-folds.
Bide your time, soon the storm shall come
no, maybe this time a gentle summer rain